Eyes Turned Skywards
by Bubblewrap Leech
Summary: 19. But, then again...
1. Mr Brightside

Up until recently, Marshall Lee the Vampire King was of the mindset that Fionna was perpetually thirteen years old. And sometimes, he thinks that Fionna herself is of this mindset as well.

Of course, intellectually he knows that several years have passed since he'd met the young spitfire, several years and many princes saved and many monster butts kicked. But it's easy to forget that when Fionna still only comes up to his chest on the rare occasion that he doesn't float, and still runs around in that ridiculous rabbit hat, waving her sword and rescuing random citizens.

In fact, it's a realization that hit Marshall Lee quite suddenly, when he was helping his (much) younger friend defeat a troll and her skort was torn up to her thigh in the scuffle. It was both a wonderful and terrible thing to realize that his best friend had _thighs_. Wonderful because, well—he might be a thousand years old, but he was still pretty much stuck at the height of his sexual maturity. He was an old bat, but he was a _teenage_ old bat. And terrible because it was _Fionna_, and in his mind Fionna was like a sibling of some vague gender or another.

Fionna wasn't meant to have thighs. Especially not ones that looked as nice as those. Or hips, for that matter. And those thoughts had his eyes trailing upwards, past her stomach and focusing on her—

Marshall Lee kicked that troll in the face. He kicked it very, very hard.

And if Fionna was confused as to why he immediately flew back to his little home in his little cave, well, that was okay. He didn't care. He didn't care about much of anything except _getting away from her._

And that is how Marshall Lee realized that his best friend was a girl. A girl with thighs, and hips, and probably boobs, if he let himself think about it enough. (Which he didn't. Much.)

In the months following his enlightenment, Marshall Lee was content to stay in his little home in his little cave and avoid Fionna like the plague. Of course, one doesn't simply avoid Fionna the Adventuress. At least, not once she realizes that she's being avoided.

* * *

><p>"YOU FART-LICKING BUM-SNIFFER!"<p>

And that is how Marshall Lee wakes up exactly three months in to his self-imposed exile. To a screaming girl and a foot in his stomach. It takes exactly three seconds for him to process that there is a _person in his room_. People are not allowed _in his room_.

An ancient instinct rises up in him, and he bares his teeth and hisses, gripping the ankle that's connected to the foot that's digging into his gut. He yanks, snaps back his arm, and uses his supernatural power to fling the intruder off the bed and into the opposite wall.

There is a feminine groan, and Marshall Lee stomps down his blind, animalistic rage to sneer at the person who had assaulted him. And, of course, it was Fionna. He stared at her for a long moment before grumbling and pulling back the covers. He reaches down and picks up the pair of jeans that had been thrown to the floor the night before, pulling them up over his pale, skinny legs. He doesn't bother with an over shirt. Fionna has seen him in tank tops before. He walks over to her prone form against the wall and crosses his arms, glaring down at her. She grunts as she rights herself and glares back at him. There is a long moment of mutual glaring.

Marshall Lee sighs and knows that he will have to be the mature party in this situation. He lifts his legs and the air catches around him, pulling him up, up, up, and then he's floating into the kitchen to find something to eat for breakfast. He hears Fionna clamber after him.

"So you're not talking to me, is that it?" she accuses, and Marshall Lee thinks that maybe he can hear a bit of hurt in her voice. That makes him feel a bit guilty and sad, but he's never handled guilt and sadness well so instead he just opens the fridge and pulls out an apple.

"You know," he says conversationally as he sinks a fang into the apple and feels the color and taste drain from it, "you're lucky that I don't sleep in the nude anymore."

He glances over his shoulder and is sadistically pleased to see that there is a hot blush on her face and her eyes are avoiding him. That sadistic pleasure is gone and is replaced by a flopping feeling in his gut; one that whispers of an entirely different kind of pleasure at the blood rushing visibly threw her cheeks. He scowls at the feeling and stomps that down, too. Causing Fionna to be embarrassed has always been a favorite pastime of his. Now even that's being poisoned by this whole…. _girl_ thing.

But the Adventuress is nothing if not persistent, and she shakes her head rapidly as if trying to fling off her blush before stomping a foot, putting her hands on her hips, and glaring at him. Marshall Lee has had an eternity to perfect his deadpan stare, though, and there is another unspoken duel between them with facial expressions. He can see Fionna becoming angrier at his lack of reaction, can see her fists clenching at her sides. Fionna has never enjoyed being ignored, or being told no, especially not by her closest friends. The tension coils within her visibly at his apathy, and he can almost see as she reaches her breaking point—

He pulls a funny face and blows a raspberry, his eyes bulging out in a caricature of his normal appearance. Fionna yelps in surprise, but that is quickly morphed into a squeal of laughter at his ridiculous face. He holds the pose for a few seconds before joining her, his own husky laughter meshing awkwardly with her high-pitched giggle. And just like that, the tension between them is gone.

Fionna helps herself to something in his kitchen as Marshall Lee floats into his living room with a yawn, still not entirely awake. He picks up his regular guitar from its stand and plucks the strings a few times, more out of boredom than any desire for a real melody. He doesn't say anything when Fionna walks into the room and sits down on his couch with a wince, munching on some strawberries.

They sit in relative silence for a minute or so, Marshall Lee fiddling with his guitar strings and Fionna chewing idly. But Fionna is rarely quiet, and Marshal Lee knows that he only has to wait before her earlier concerns will be voiced again. He starts a countdown in his head, guessing that she'll last another twenty seconds before speaking.

Ten Mississippi's later, Fionna asks, "So… are you really not talking to me now?" He gave her too much credit.

Of course, now that her anger and righteous fury has drained, he can hear the hesitancy in her voice, the way she tries not to sound hurt. For all her shenanigans and bravado, she is still just a young girl who's confused as to why one of her best buds is seemingly ticked off at her. He swallows down another bout of guilt, and it leaves a sour taste in his mouth, like when he goes too long living off colors and no real blood to sustain him. It's a weird connection to make, and that makes him grimace.

Fionna misreads his facial expression and shuffles her feet, hugging herself loosely with her arms and looking away. Marshall Lee sighs at this subtle show of defeat, and floats over her to look at her upside down. Her eyes lift to meet his slowly, and after a few seconds of eye contact he smiles the most sincere, apologetic smile that a vampire with fangs can pull off. Her own lip quirks up in response and that is enough to prompt one of his blue-tinted hands into patting her head, soft enough to be friendly but hard enough to feel the strands of hair beneath the fabric shift.

"I'm sorry," he tells her. And he doesn't really offer much explanation, but he is Marshall Lee and really that's all she can expect from him. He can tell that Fionna is not entirely happy with this dismissal of the last three months of the cold shoulder, but she has learned that Marshall Lee has his moods and eccentricities, and they have been friends for too long for this to really jeopardize anything.

She huffs out a breath and Marshall Lee has to back off, because he can smell the strawberry she'd eaten in the exhale and the underlying scent of _Fionna_ (which he's always noticed, honestly, but before it would just irritate him in the way that Cake used to irritate him, or how the sun would irritate him, and now it sends tingles down his spine because _Fionna is a girl_, and he's not quite sure when that happened).

"It's okay, I guess," Fionna says, and pushes her fringe of blonde hair out of her eye as he floats back down to her level, his customary Marshall Lee-smirk back in place. She grins and punches him in the arm, and if there is a bit more force than usual behind the blow, neither of them mention it. "Just don't disappear off again, okay? If you have to go for some lame vampire thing, then tell me first."

Marshall Lee scoffs and shrugs at her, hefting his guitar up again. "Che. Whatever, puffball," he says, and dodges another flying fist with a snort of laughter. When she growls at him, he makes another weird face and laughs, expanding his mouth until he looks like he's all teeth and flashing pearly white fangs at her.

She catches him by surprise when she jumps at him and wraps her arms around his waist, tackling him from the air and to the ground, but he catches himself quickly and they wrestle like they used to when she was younger, like they still do sometimes when they get bored.

And maybe Fionna is a girl, and maybe she's even a pretty girl (maybe even a beautiful one), but she's still Fionna and she's still his best friend, so maybe he can forgive her of her gender for now.

* * *

><p><strong>(this will be a series of related oneshots that are less plot and more the development of a relationship. each will probably be relatively short. update schedule is erratic, but i'm hoping to finish this eventually. i quite like it. i'm leaving the rating as M because i want to give myself freedom in the off-chance that i want to go that far. i probably won't, but it would be nice to have the option.)<strong>


	2. Jump Rope

Time is a fairly relative concept to someone who doesn't age. It was easy for Marshall Lee to forget that three months is a pretty long time to go without talking to anyone, especially because until that point he'd been fairly consistent with checking up on Fionna and her merry gang of pyschos. But he'd spent hundreds of years on his own, for the most part, so a three month escape from Fionna-and-all-things-related-to-Fionna was more of a brief second than any real time. Of course, at the time he was wishing that that brief second would never end, and he'd never have to go back to Fionna-and-all-things-related-to-Fionna, at least not until he'd come to terms with the fact that his best pal was in possession of some mighty fine knockers.

So he was a bit confused when, after he'd given up his self-imposed exile, Fionna had fairly clung to him or a week or two afterwards; she'd come to his house in the late afternoon, hang out with him, and then leave sometime in the night. If they weren't doing mundane things like that, she was dragging him to go slay monsters and rescue princes with her.

And when he asked her why she was suddenly up his butt all the time, she replied, "I'm making up for when you got poo brain and ditched me."

And Marshall Lee realized then that to his mortal friend, three months is a pretty long time for someone to be silent. A quarter of a year that he'd wasted while trying to come to grips with the fact that his best friend was a girl, when really nothing has changed much at all. She still likes to wrestle and have spitball fights and attack critters. Now, he just has something nice to look at while she does it.

So, upon reflection, with this realization he knows he shouldn't be very surprised when his doorbell rings and there is a nervous-looking candy cane guard on the other side of his threshold with a formal message to formally invite Marshall Lee the Vampire King to a private formal luncheon with the Prince of the Candy Kingdom, formally signed by Gumball himself.

* * *

><p>Private luncheons with Bartleby Gumball, Marshall Lee knows, are really just gussied-up tea parties, because Gumball is the prissiest boy Marshall Lee has ever met, and he has lived a long time and has met a lot of boys. He isn't much a fan of Gumball's tea parties because a lot of pomp and circumstance goes into them, even though Marshall Lee himself scares the jelly filling out of most of the Candy Kingdom's inhabitants. This was funny when he and Gumball first became kind-of friends, but years later it is mostly just irritating to hear the high-pitched screaming and the creamy insides squirt out of a dozen or so donuts and muffins. Also, there is too much pink. Marshall Lee is not much a fan of pink.<p>

Despite all of this, it really _has_ been a while since he's seen his friend, now that he understands the value of time for his mortal pals, and after scaring the stripes off of the candy cane guard, Marshall Lee grabs a baseball cap, throws on some sandals, fetches his umbrella, and floats out the door. The guard lies groaning on his porch.

It is a relatively short and uneventful flight to Gumball's castle, and when he gets there the Prince himself is waiting, all smiles and perfectly straight teeth. Marshall Lee waves a hand at him lazily as he lands, ignoring the frightened gasps of the cookie-people watching his arrival. "'Sup?" he asks, and it's less a question and more of a greeting, like he doesn't care very much either way if something is up or not. Gumball is used to him though; perhaps even more than Fionna is, because he doesn't have a perpetual shroud of naivety blanketing the actions of the people around him.

"My friend!" Gumball exclaims, throwing his arms around Marshall Lee as soon as the vampire as touched onto the ground. Marshall Lee hisses when this disrupts his umbrella and a shaft of sunlight scorches his arm. Gumball rushes him inside the castle, blathering the whole time.

"Where have you been? Were you truly just hiding in your house? Whatever for? Did something happen? Fionna and I were worried about you when you didn't respond to any of our calls or messages."

Marshall Lee blinks in a daze at the barrage of questions, wondering how Gumball can even catch his breath when he's talking that fast. He lets his friend usher him into a room that's tucked away into one of the darker parts of the castle, where the sun doesn't shine at this time of day, and he just shakes his head in exasperation when Gumball shoves a tea cup into his hand.

"Chill, Bartleby," Marshall Lee says dryly, holding up a pale hand to stop the Princes' inquiries. "Yeah, I've been at home. And nothing happened." He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.

He and Gumball are friends. But the vampire is not as close to him as he is to Fionna, or as close as Gumball himself is to Fionna. This is something that he is resentful for, somewhat. The fact that his best friend has other people she'd rather hang out with. The fact that, in the end, he is just a second choice. (Third choice, actually, if you count Cake. Which sucks even more. Marshall Lee the Vampire King is playing third fiddle to a cat.) But this is not something that Gumball can help, and though the two have something of a rivalry at times, he has always been a real bro when necessary.

Marshall Lee shrugs. "I just wanted to take a break."

There is some sort of judgment in Gumball's purple eyes, like he's trying to decide if the immortal is lying, or maybe not telling the whole story. But this is the truth, as much of it as Marshall Lee is willing to share, and the Candy Kingdom's Prince knows that Marshall Lee keeps tight to the secrets he doesn't want others to hear. So he just turns back down to his cup of tea and sips it daintily, one pinky finger out.

Girly as he might be, Gumball still retains his award for being the most bro-y bro in the history of bro-dom.

"Well," he says, looking up at Marshall Lee from over his tea cup, which is raised to his mouth in preparation for another drink. "Next time you want to take a break, you should warn us."

Marshall Lee snorts into his own cup of tea, which he doesn't drink because it's not red and his immortal body has trouble digesting anything but blood and colors. And he doubts that Gumball will be willing to spike the tea with blood to make it more bearable.

(Though, now that he thinks about it, red food dye might work. It is a thought he tucks away so that he can bring it up later, when they're having one of their habitual guy-fights and he can insult Gumball's lack of forethought for his guests.

For Bartleby Gumball, trashing his hospitality can be as devastating as a kick in the hoo-ha.)

He does, however, take a hefty chunk of the red velvet cake on his plate—he's not sure when those got there, but it's entirely possible that Gumball just willed them into existence, he's crafty with sweets like that—and bring it up to his mouth, sucking the color from it.

Colors, he has learned and grown to except over his many years, have a strange nature when it comes to taste. For everyday objects, such as bowties for instance, the color has its own taste and texture. For foods, it's sort of a dual mix of the taste of the color and the taste of the food. Sometimes he misses food by itself, but that's only sometimes and he doesn't think about things like food or sunlight much.

"Can't imagine you missed me much," Marshall Lee states wryly, spearing another piece of cake. Muted taste or not, Gumball makes the most excellent dessert.

Gumball finishes chewing his own bite before putting his fork down solemnly and watching Marshall Lee, who quickly becomes uncomfortable under his stare.

"Did something happen between you and Fionna?" Gumball asks calmly but seriously, and this is like his version of yelling. It's not something that Marshall Lee is used to being directed at him, and he can't help but sit a bit straighter and narrow his eyes.

"No," he grinds out, making sure that his fangs peek out from beneath his top lip. Gumball glances at them but quickly returns his gaze to Marshall Lee's eyes.

He takes a spoon, dips it into a small dish on the table, and comes back with a generous pile of sugar in the dip. He dumps the sugar into his tea and stirs it gently, still watching his vampire friend. Despite all of the pink and Gumball's generally feminine appearance, he still manages to look foreboding.

This doesn't do much for Marshall Lee, though. He's lived a thousand years, has seen things that would make Bartleby Gumball curl up in a corner. Normally a self-righteous Prince(ss) wouldn't be that intimidating. But this is Gumball, who is his friend, and that is unsettling enough. Stupid friendship. Marshall Lee wants his bro award back.

"Because," the Prince continues, lifting his cup gently, "Fionna was very upset when she realized that you were actively ignoring her. And I wasn't that pleased with your silence either." He hesitates, trailing one finger around the rim of his cup. "And you were gone for quite a while."

And, really, there it is. Concern for him and concern for Fionna. And as much as he doesn't seem like it, Gumball is still a dude and talking about feelings is difficult for him. Marshall Lee would have laughed if Gumball wasn't still staring him down.

"No, dude," Marshall Lee says, defending himself. "I'm serious. I just wanted some me-time. And I didn't realize how much time had passed."

The fact that he has realized that Fionna is a chick does not need to be brought up. There are some things that Marshall Lee will not share. Not even (or maybe especially) with Bartleby Gumball.

The Candy Prince looks him over as if trying to read his mind, but Marshall Lee shoots him a disarming smile. Gumball hesitates, then smiles back, and the moment is past. Gumball is now officially a bro again.

They make idle chat for another half hour before Marshall Lee yawns widely. It's now early afternoon, and way past his usual bedtime. He's got a full night of pranking and pixie-stomping, and he needs his rest. Gumball graciously bids him farewell as several pretzel-men clean up after them. It has been a rare moment of indulgence for Marshall Lee; normally he doesn't hang out with Gumball that much and he hardly ever accepts tea party invites. Even showing up is a testament to how much he's missed his friend over the last three months.

"Marshall Lee!" Gumball shouts after him, and he stops to float in the air about twenty feet from the castle. He waves an arm to acknowledge his friend.

"I wasn't lying when I said Fionna was really worried!" he finishes, sending another blinding grin at Marshall Lee that seems to shot right through him like an arrow.

His parting words send a little thrill up Marshall Lee's spine, but he doesn't exactly know why, and that confusion makes the flight home irritating. He lands, now annoyed again, to find that the candy cane guard is missing, and there's a note taped to his front door. He grabs it without reading and floats through his house, entering his dark, cold room and flopping down on the bed. He doesn't bother shedding his clothes, just stretches out on the comforter, and reads the note.

_Marshie! Gimme a call when you wake up, we should hang_

_-Fionna_

The note sends another strange feeling to rise within him, bubbling and roiling like it sometimes does when he sees Fionna now that she's suddenly a _girl_. Or like when he binges on blood after fasting for a long time. He needs to stop thinking about blood or he'll start to want it again. He also needs to stop thinking about girls.

Freakin' girls.

Marshall Lee wonders how soon he can justify disappearing again.

**(bartleby is gumball's first name in my head. you will not disprove this for me. :|)**


	3. Santeria

It's weird for Marshall Lee to think that he's known Fionna pretty much the entire time she's been a teenager. He met her when she was thirteen, and now she's almost seventeen. Fionna is still largely the same person; still hyperactive, still incredibly curious, and still naïve and trusting. The only differences that he can perceive are little things. Like, she eats less than she used to, as if concerned about her weight. She isn't physical with her guy friends as much as she used to be. Little things that he used to look over when Fionna was just a girl, instead of a _girl_.

It's weird in a way that while she's grown and matured, he's still the same age he was when they met. She's gotten taller, filled out, grown up. And he's still a gangly pale vampire with weird taste in music and an affinity for changing his hairstyle frequently.

Marshall Lee doesn't like thinking these thoughts. He doesn't like the fact that time will pass, and Fionna and Gumball will get older and older, until Gumball has become king and Fionna stops adventuring, and then they will start getting grey hairs and wrinkles, and then they will die. And Marshall Lee will have to watch all of this, eternally eighteen, and he will not stop it.

Marshall Lee does not cling. He is familiar with death. His kind embraces it. He knows that this will pass, and that he will not turn his friends into vampires because he is selfish and lonely. He does not cling.

These are thoughts that circle the back of his mind constantly, during the day when he is alone and at night when he flies over Ooo just to be doing something. He tries not to think them most of the time, and if he keeps himself busy he can almost succeed. But keeping busy usually means hanging out with Fionna, and now that Fionna is a _girl_, his body reacts in a different way.

And Marshall Lee is not an idiot. He's had a girlfriend before, he's been in love. He knows what the start of a crush feels like. But this is _Fionna_. He can't have a crush on _Fionna_. It'd be too weird.

It's been almost two weeks since he'd talked to Gumball, and he thinks that maybe he should have mentioned something to his guy-pal. Asked a couple questions, maybe. Like, when did Bartleby realize that Fionna was a girl? Has this always been normal, and Marshall Lee is just late on the uptake, or…?

He dismisses the thoughts of talking to Gumball, because Fionna used to have a major crush on him (maybe she still does, Marshall Lee doesn't know, she and he don't talk about things like this) and sometimes he thinks that Bartleby watches Fionna a little too long when she comes by. And Gumball is his bro, and even if he was maybe sorta developing a crush on their friend (which he wasn't), he wouldn't get in the way of a bro.

Besides. Having a crush of Fionna is like the weirdest of all weird thoughts. There's just no way it could happen.

So he pushes that to the back of his mind, too, and doesn't think about it, not once. Not even when Fionna nearly breaks his door down and drags him off into the night.

* * *

><p>"So what's the plan tonight, puffball?" Marshall Lee asks, floating alongside Fionna as the adventuress hitches a ride on Cake. It's one of those perfect nights for vampires, when the moon is out and bright and the air is warm and balmy but a gentle wind blows just hard enough to cool, and the humidity is low enough for his clothes not to seem heavy, even with the added weight of his axe-bass. Marshall Lee loves these nights because it's not too hot and not too cold, and it's light enough for Fionna to see without needing direction from him.<p>

Marshall Lee loves the nighttime.

"Well, I heard that Hotdog Prince was having some trouble with this ketchup ghoul that won't leave him alone. But I could probably handle that by myself tomorrow, if you're not interested." Fionna digs her fingers into Cake's shoulder blades, and the cat jumps before purring loudly.

Sometimes, Cake is still afraid of Marshall Lee. Though he supposes that he really does bring it on himself. He doesn't usually prank or scare Fionna like he used to, since she wised up to the majority of his tricks a long time ago. But Cake is just so easy to rile up that he can't resist howling at her, or hissing at her, or popping up behind her and screaming really loud. After all, he's a menace at heart. Lately, though, he just hasn't cared enough to mess with the cat, and the result is that she's more likely to come with them when they go out at night. And that makes Fionna happy, which makes him happy.

Marshall Lee shrugs and does a loopty-loo in the air, just because it's nighttime and he can. Fionna watches him with a smile on her face, and if he could blush he probably would. But instead he just scratches his chin and turns away, saying, "Whatever's cool with me, kid."

The grin on her face morphs into a full-blown grin, and he swears that if it were any brighter he'd have to carry around an umbrella at night too, for fear her face would burn him like the sun does.

"Trigonomic!" she cheers, then throws one hand out to point dramatically to the east. "Onward, Cake! To Hotdog kingdom!"

The massive cat beneath her whoops in reply and yells out, "Hold on, girl! We gonna get there fast!" Her stride lengthens quickly, going from an easy walk to an excited gallop within seconds, her paws eating up the ground and flicking rocks and dirt up into Marshall Lee's face as he's left behind.

He sputters indignantly, crying out, "Hey!" But he can't be mad at them when Fionna's tinkling laugher floats after her, so instead he just flies faster to catch up.

They have a pseudo-race for the ten minutes it takes to get to the (rather small) territory of the Hotdog Prince. Marshall Lee wins because it doesn't take as much energy to fly as it does to run, and the weather is perfect for flying anyhow, but Cake still looks disappointed that she lost, and Fionna rubs her ears comfortingly when she's jumped off and the cat is back to normal. Marshall Lee thinks to himself that he'll let them win, next time, so that Cake won't get upset. He does quite like the feisty feline, even if he is a bit of a butt to her sometimes.

Cake catches her breath for a few moments before they go to meet up with Hotdog Prince, and Fionna takes the opportunity to ask Marshall Lee, "Why are you not as tired as her? You were going just as fast." She thinks about it for a second, then waves her arms excitedly. "Even faster, actually, since you won!"

Marshall Lee smirks and shrugs, straightening his black-and-grey plaid shirt and fixing up one of the buttons that'd come undone during the race. He doesn't notice that Fionna's eyes follow the motion for a few seconds before widening and turning away, her cheeks becoming rosy. "Well," he says, bending down to unroll a pants leg. "Flight uses a different kind of energy than running does. So I am tired, just… not as much. And not as visibly. But if we screw around too much tonight, then tomorrow I'll be exhausted and I'll have to sleep all day."

Fionna giggles and punches him in the arm, but it's a Fionna-punch and not a Fionna-the-Adventuress punch, so it doesn't hurt all that much. "You sleep all day anyway," she informs him seriously, but her eyes are shining with mirth. He blinks for a second before scoffing and shoving her shoulder lightly.

"Whatever," he says, but a smirk plays at the corner of his mouth, tilting his fangs into view and Fionna smiles so wide that her eyes close.

The voice behind them is slyly amused. "Am I interrupting somethin'?" Cake asks, one eyebrow raised as she smiles at them smugly. Fionna doesn't seem to get the implication, but Marshall Lee does, and he turns away from them abruptly, sure that his face would be on fire if he could blush.

Fionna runs ahead of them with a whoop, and Marshall Lee expects Cake to be right behind her, but he's surprised and kind of frightened when he realizes that the feline is staying behind and waiting for him to do something. Against his better judgment, he glances down at her.

He now understands why the term is called a 'catty' grin. Cake's eyes are narrowed, but there is a smirk on her face and he can only assume that the look she sends him is good natured. She holds his eyes for a full six seconds, and he can't do much but hold his breath and sweat, before she shakes her head with a knowing grin and chases after Fionna.

Marshall Lee releases his breath on a sigh and follows after them at a much more subdued pace. He isn't sure what it was that Cake just saw in his head, but he doesn't like the idea that she knows something about him that he himself doesn't know yet. It just doesn't sit right.

When he catches up to them, floating at a leisurely pace, he sees that a corndog knight has wandered up. The little wiener dog is posturing aggressively because Cake is there, and the cat is hissing lowly in reply, but the effect of its intimidation is slightly countered by the large chunk of breading missing from its hindquarters. Marshall Lee comes to a stop on the left of Fionna and glances down at the knight. His eyebrows raise, unimpressed.

Fionna is trying unsuccessfully to divert the attention of the corndog knight from Cake to herself, and Marshall Lee can see that she is quickly becoming exasperated with the situation.

"Sir could you just- But the ghoul—And the Prince-!" she tries anxiously, batting the knight away when it tries to dart past her legs to snap at Cake. Marshall Lee watches in half-amusement as she does this several more times, all to the backdrop of the knight yapping and Cake hissing angrily. Finally, Fionna looks up at Marshall Lee and grumbles, "Could you maybe help out, _please?_" And the please is more said in irritation than actual consternation, but Marshall Lee shrugs with a chuckle and bends so he is floating upside down over the dog. (His shirt falls off his stomach because of gravity, exposing up to his navel, and Fionna jerks away so hard that she startles Cake, who sinks her claws into Fionna's sock-covered calf. She can barely contain a squeak of pained surprise, but she's not sure if it's because of Cake's claws or Marshall Lee's bellybutton. Before now she'd never even wonder if he had a bellybutton.)

"Hey," Marshall Lee says calmly to the barking dog, his hair falling out of his face and making him resemble a floating mop. The dog stops barking, but instead growls low in its throat and turns to look at the vampire over its shoulder.

Marshall Lee opens his mouth wide, exposing horrific fangs that seem to jut from every corner of his mouth. His pupils slit and shrink until they almost disappear, tiny pin-pricks in the poisonous-looking red of his eyes, and he lets out a vicious hiss that would put Cake to shame, forking his tongue and wagging it for effect.

The corndog knight shrieks and turns tail, its oblong body struggling to keep upright atop its short, stumpy legs as it runs back in the direction it came from, screaming "ARP-ARP-ARP-ARP!" until it is once again lost in the underbrush.

Marshall Lee rights himself, face back to normal, and simply smiles when Fionna blinks at him in horror. "Well what're we waiting for?" he asks with a smirk, and floats after the dog.

Cake climbs up on Fionna's shoulder and sits there, and they stare after the Vampire King for a few seconds. Cake's fur is still standing on end, though at this point even the feline isn't sure if it's because of the corndog knight or because of Marshall Lee's theatrics.

"Oh my glob," Fionna says quietly, mouth still open slightly.

"I know, girl," Cake whispers in reply, trying to smooth out her fur. They stand there for another few seconds before Fionna shakes her head rapidly, almost dislodging Cake, and rushes after Marshall Lee, hefting her heavy backpack higher up onto her shoulders.

They come upon a rather small castle. It's small compared to Gumball's, at least. The stone walls are sprayed in red, and Fionna's heart jumps for a second because it looks so much like blood, but the stink of tomato is overwhelming. Marshall Lee's lip curls in disgust; he really dislikes tomatoes. A crowd of corndog knights guard the front entrance to the castle, led by the one who'd accosted them, which was obvious by the missing chunk in his butt.

They growl at Fionna as she passes, but Marshall Lee narrows his eyes at them and they yelp in unison and shrink away. Obviously word travels fast.

They make it to the front entrance of the castle when the Prince himself comes hobbling out, nearly weeping in relief at the sight of Fiona the Adventuress. He barely acknowledges Marshall Lee, despite the vampire being fellow royalty. The gentry of Ooo don't care much for the Vampire King, with Bartleby Gumball being one of the few exceptions.

"Fionna!" the Hotdog Prince barks, eyes only for the human. Cake and Marshall Lee share a look of exasperation. "Thank dog you're here! The ghoul showed up again!"

The Adventuress looks around at the way the ketchup is painted along the walls of the castle almost artistically. "I can see that," she says idly, then puts her hands on her hips and grins down at the Prince. "How can I help, Hotdog?" Marshall Lee rolls his eyes at her enthusiasm.

The Prince shrugs at her helplessly. "Well, Fionna, the only way to get a ketchup ghoul to leave you alone is to KICK HIS BUTT!" He sits on his haunches in order to better raise one front paw and slap it into the other, apparently a mime of kicking butt. Marshall Lee rolls his eyes again.

"That's great!" Fionna gushes, looking around cheerfully. "I'm excellent at kicking butts! My foot is a close personal buddy of many booties." (Marshall Lee rolls his eyes _really super hard._)

The Hotdog Prince does a little dance on his hind legs and yips happily. "Spectacular! The ghoul should be back any minute, and then you can beat him up for us!" Fionna nods with a laugh, and Hotdog howls loudly to his knights. "Retreats, corndogs!" he commands, and the pack of slobbering meat-and-batter follows him back into the castle, sending one last glare at Cake. She hisses back and jumps from Fionna's shoulders.

Fionna stretches a few times, bending down to touch her toes, and Marshall Lee tries _very, very hard_ not to look at her butt. He tries so hard, in fact, that he actually draws more attention to himself by glaring holes in the ground than if he'd just been watching his friend. Cake stares at him until she catches his eyes, and then a small, slow grin curls up her mouth. Marshall Lee shudders.

The moment is cut short when a roar echoes through the clearing surrounding the castle, and both Fionna and Cake jump to attention. A sword is fished out of her backpack and gripped in her hand within seconds, a practiced move that still impresses Marshall Lee every time he sees it. The vampire himself is floating idly, having unslung his axe-bass from around his shoulder. He adjusts the strings nonchalantly.

Within a few seconds, a bulbous red creature slithers across one wall of the castle, up near the top, leaving a trail of red paste behind it. Vibrant green vines grip at the stone of the building for traction, breaking into the grout and pulling out several slabs of stone that drop to the ground with a bang. It sees Fionna and bellows angrily, tensing its vines before using them to fling itself towards the human like a bungee cord.

Fionna meets it in the air with her sword, cutting through the vines like butter and twisting away to avoid the retaliating swipe. She free-falls through the air for a moment before Cake catches her, having grown to the size of the monster itself and hissing, waving the claws of her free hand threateningly. The monster snarls and turns, facing its back to him, and Cake realizes a second too late what it's going to do—

The jet of tomato sauce hits them straight on, knocking Fionna from Cake's grip and causing her to plummet, this time without a safety net as Cake tries to wipe the sauce off of her face. Fionna twists in the air to fall correctly, preparing to land as safely as possible, but only a foot or so from the ground she jerks to a stop.

She hefts her top half up to see what's caught her ankle, and is met with Marshall Lee's smug grin, one fang pointing out in a smirk. "Didja forget about me?" he asks, but his eyes are drawn somewhere below her face and his own expression smooths out abruptly. Fionna realizes with a jolt that the same thing that had happened to Marshall Lee's shirt before as happened to hers, and if her shirt falls down anymore he will be able to see—

Fionna shrieks and kicks out, and Marshall Lee is so surprised that he drops her. She falls the last foot with a grunt, and glares up at him once she's righted her shirt and sat up. His expression is kind of scared and he holds his hands up helplessly. She is a bit proud of her intimidation, actually, considering that she's gotten the Vampire King himself to back up cautiously.

"Look, it's not like I was trying to..." Marshall Lee starts, but her glare stops him midsentence. "All I did was..." Her glare intensifies. He growls under his breaths and grinds out, "Whatever," before floating back through the air towards where the ketchup ghoul is now wrestling with Cake.

Fionna wonders exactly what he's going to do, considering he'd left his axe-bass back on the ground when the ghoul had come out. Her question is answered quickly, though, when Marshall Lee sneaks around behind the beast, grabs its red, shiny skin in the place that could be considered its throat, and sinks his teeth into it. His needle-like fangs rip through the flesh easily, and the ghoul gives a shriek of absolute pain as Marshall Lee begins tearing into it in earnest.

Cake shrinks back down to her normal size and for the second time that night she and Fionna watch Marshall Lee in awe. The ghoul quickly shrivels up, even its vines turning grey and lifeless, and it drifts down to the ground like a feather. Marshall Lee stays up in the air for a moment, wiping his mouth and trying to control himself. He had been aiming to just suck all the color out of the creature, considering that it was mostly red, but once his teeth had broken the skin instinct had taken over and before he could regain control everything, color, blood, and marrow had been removed. His hands shake slightly from the rush, and he can almost feel as his pupils contract and widen with his sudden heartbeat.

That was why vampires wanted blood, after all. It could give their hearts a jumpstart; send it pumping for another few seconds, maybe a minute if the meal was big enough. Of course they didn't need a heartbeat, but the feeling of it was incredible. And the _taste_. It was like every good meal he'd had to give up ever since he'd been turned.

It's no wonder, Marshall Lee thinks as he lifts a hand and presses it against his chest, feeling the feeble beat of the organ hidden beneath his skin, that most vampires don't bother limiting themselves to colors.

"Marshall Lee?"

He jerks in surprise at the voice, and his heart gives one last startled jump before stuttering to a halt again. The air that he'd been inhaling just seconds ago settles in his lungs and stagnates now that they no longer have a function. He twists around to look at Fionna, who is watching him in slight fear, and realizes that there is still _something_ staining the bottom half of his face. At this point he's not sure if it's blood or tomato sauce, but after the realization of what he'd just done the thought of either makes him nauseous and he wipes it off quickly, flicking it to the ground.

He floats back down to the ground and lands, feeling too bloated to sustain flight, and sighs. Fionna takes a hesitant step forward, then another when he just blinks at her wearily. The rush of bloodlust after having gone so long without it is exhausting, and when he looks up at the sky it's nearly pink at the edges as dawn approaches. No wonder he's suddenly so tired. He takes a step forward and stumbles, but Fionna is there to catch him, and she props his much taller form against her own, thankful that he's so lanky.

"'M tired, Fi," Marshall Lee mumbles softly, and she can tell that he is because he rarely calls her Fi. Normally if he uses a nickname for her, it's puffball. Cake shifts until she's bigger and longer, tall enough to carry them both easily, and Fionna helps Marshall Lee up onto her back because suddenly his arms are like noodles and he can't move them easily.

Fionna bends and hefts up his axe-bass, and is surprised by how heavy it is. Someone as skinny as Marshall Lee shouldn't be able to carry something like this around so easily. But then again, Marshall Lee is always surprising her, even years after they've met.

She lifts herself onto Cake's back behind Marshall Lee, and doesn't say anything when he leans against her tiredly. In another few nights, once he's back up to his normal strength he'll be embarrassed as plum about this, but right now he's not fighting her and that's all she cares about.

"Come on, Cake," Fionna says quietly. She can't tell if Marshall Lee is asleep or not, but she doesn't want to wake him if he is. Cake moves forward at a brisk jog, and the vampire's head lolls onto Fionna's shoulder before falling into the dip of her clavicle. She stiffens, remembering that this is a vampire (and not just any vampire, but the Vampire King himself) and that his mouth is dangerously close to her jugular, but the moment passes quickly. This is Marshall Lee, and there is only one person who she trusts more than him, and that's Cake. He is her Marshie, and she does not fear him.

Cake heads back to Marshall Lee's cave, and this time it is a pseudo-race with the sun.

**(i wasn't really able to do cake justice in this chapter, i think. it sucks, because i can honestly say that she was my favorite part of the actual genderbent episode. they did an epic job on her lines/voice actress. :D**

**also, thanks for all the favs, alerts, and reviews, guys! you are awesome and you should feel awesome. and for the anon who was typing from her phone, marshall lee is a total bro to gumball too, once he gets over his lameness. i was trying to make it seem like the reason he was being so derp with gumball was because he was defensive, confused, and kind of guilty for disappearing. i'll try harder to clarify stuff like that next time, and thank you for the critique!)**


	4. Fat Bottomed Girls

Vampires can't get sick. This is, essentially, one of the fundamental rules of being a vampire. They can't catch viruses or diseases, they don't get fevers, they don't even get colds. Vampires are immune to just about every mortal sickness.

Marshall Lee is sick.

Well, it's not so much that he's sick as that he's _exhausted_. Frighteningly exhausted, like he's gone a week without eating or sleeping but his body still wants to move. Two days have passed since he, Fionna, and Cake fought the ketchup ghoul, and despite the fact that his role in the fight had been a relatively small one his entire body feels sore and uncomfortable. He's feels so incredibly tired, but when he lies across his bed his skin itches like there's bugs scuttling around just under the surface, and he wonders if he can claw his way out of his own flesh, like a snake shedding its skin.

All he can do is huddle under his blankets and wait it out.

After they'd reached Marshall Lee's house, Fionna had taken him inside and had nearly dragged him to his room. She'd stepped out for a few minutes, blushing, to let him change into more comfortable clothes before she'd pushed him into his bed and tucked him in. All of this was done to the soundtrack of Marshall Lee alternating between growling at her in embarrassment and groaning in pain.

Fionna hasn't checked up on him since then, but then again he's been asleep almost the entire two days since she'd dropped him off, so if she has visited he wouldn't know. Cake shows up after the first night, when the moon is high in the sky, and at this time Marshall Lee would normally be pulling pranks and playing his guitar, but all he can do is hiss at her groggily when she checks to see if he has a fever.

("Of course I don't, you stupid cat, vampires don't get sick."

"Yeah okay, honey, whatever you say.")

But she's soon gone and Marshall Lee curls up even more on his bed, determined not to move. When he does his skin scrapes against the sheets harshly, every nerve in his body hypersensitive to the point where the soft cotton feels more like harsh sunbeams baking his flesh.

He dozes for the most part, long hours of sleep interrupted by brief fits of half-lucidity where he ponders what's driven him to this point. Over exertion. The sudden and unwelcome reintroduction of blood into his diet. Emotional backlash, possibly. The most likely culprit is the tomatoes.

Marshall Lee freakin' hates tomatoes.

He blames the tomatoes for everything; they are the reason he's so achy, and he later decides that they are the reason he doesn't really put up much of a fight when the Ice Queen blasts through his roof and carts him off.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee awakes to the frigid feeling of ice beneath his body, thankfully numbing most of his pain, but his limbs are still too heavy for him to move. He tries anyway, and the agony of the movement causes him to curl inwards with a gasp. He lifts himself up on shaky arms and tries to determine where he is.<p>

It's not that difficult to find the answer, considering he's in a jail whose bars are made out of ice, in a room of ice, presumably in a castle of ice. Marshall Lee is understandably confused, because while the Ice Queen kidnapping dudes is a fairly normal practice, she usually sticks to taking princes.

Marshall Lee is not a prince. He's worked too hard for too long to be a mere prince. No, Marshall Lee is a King.

The Ice Queen has never tried to pull anything like this on him, probably because among the magical community Marshall Lee is notorious for being incredibly unsympathetic to people assaulting him. Looking back on it, he thinks that he should have expected an attack along these lines, but he would have thought that it'd be another vampire going after his crown. (Metaphorical crown. Marshall Lee doesn't wear crowns, they don't go that well with his usual striped shirts. And he's not sure that it would fit on his hair anyway.)

Instead he's been taken by a lonely old ice lady. It'd be funny if he didn't feel so pathetic.

A heavy door set into the wall facing him opens, the sound of it echoing forlornly through the icy depths. The Queen herself steps through the threshold with a white shawl in her arms. She momentarily ignores the fact that he is awake and throws the shawl through the bars to it lands haphazardly near him. Marshall Lee is very tempted to pretend that it's not there, but the fur is soft and downy and it feels excellent compared to the freezing ice he's lying on. He wraps himself up in it and forces himself into a sitting position, watching her watch him.

He's not that concerned, really. He might be under the weather now, but within another day or so he'll be back to normal. Assuming he hasn't figured out a way out of here by then, when that happens the Ice Queen will regret ever having thought about him.

"Sooooo," she drawls out, the first words she's spoken to him in a very long time. He doesn't make a habit of meeting up with crazy old witches, Ashley aside. The Ice Queen pauses, as if giving him an opportunity to speak, but he is silent as the grave. (He hopes he can remember that one later, Fionna would appreciate the pun.)

"…You comfy?" the Queen asks, pulling a chair up closer to his cell. He raises an eyebrow at her, thankful that the small movement doesn't cause any pain.

"Yes," he intones dryly, "I love being kidnapped and thrown almost naked into a block of ice. It was at the top of my bucket list before I became undead."

She's pleased by the answer, oblivious to his sarcasm. Marshall Lee wonders how dumb the Princes of Ooo must be to be taken by her when they were completely healthy.

"Good, good," she gushes, clapping her hands happily. "And now you can stay here with me, forever!" She lets out a cackle and thrusts her arms out at him, like a cat prepared to strike, fingers bent like claws.

Marshall Lee shrugs and says, "Okay."

The Ice Queen blinks at him silently, then says even louder, "FOREVER!" She throws her arms back this time, and pillars of ice burst through the floor violently in a show of aggression.

Marshall Lee nods. "Mm-hmm."

She drops her arms limply to the sides and stares at him in incomprehension. "…really?" she asks, a bit confused. "I mean, usually it's not this easy. You're not going spit insults at me and swear vengeance? Or threaten me with that Adventuress skank?"

He bristles inwardly at the slight against Fionna, but he doesn't allow it to show on his face. He has a plan.

"Nah. Not really worth it," he says instead, lifting his shoulders up in another shrug, but drops them with a wince when his muscles scream in exhausted protest. He tucks his toes up further under the makeshift blanket as Ice Queen blinks in confusion.

She lifts one hand up to her mouth and chews on her nails thoughtfully. "Oh. Um. I never really thought this far ahead." She opens her mouth again, then shuts it and scratches her snow-white head. "So, just to clarify, you're okay with me forcing you to marry me?"

"I mean, I guess. It's cool."

They both take a second to process his unintentional pun, then Marshall Lee continues awkwardly. "So, uh… if we're going to get married, we should, uh, learn more about each other." He hesitates, then sends her a charming smile and is both pleased and grossed out when she blushes at it. Pleased because not only is everything going according to plan, but it's always nice to have someone reaffirm that he is a stud. And it's gross because that affirmation is coming from the _Ice Queen_ and there is just so much wrong with this situation.

She twiddles her thumbs and avoids eye contact, her white skin still stained with a blush. "Um... okay," she says shyly. "So why don't you tell me about yourself?"

Marshall Lee wants to shrug, but his shoulder twinges when he starts the movement so instead he just sighs. "Not much to tell, really. I've been alive, err, undead for a while, but haven't done much lately." He glances around the room, trying to determine any weak points he can exploit, incase his plan goes awry. Before she can get suspicious of his inspection, he observes, "You know, I haven't been in an ice castle in almost three hundred years. Not since Prince Hoarfrost was alive."

The Ice Queen grips her dress suddenly and leans towards him, blue eyes wide in excitement. "You knew Prince Hoarfrost?" she squeals.

Marshall Lee grins in reply. "Not closely, but yeah, we hung out sometimes." He watches in amusement as the Queen leaps from her chair and jumps up and down frantically. She'd be amusing, really, if she wasn't so evil.

"Omagosh omagosh omagosh!" she squeaks, doing a little jig. "He was so _fine!_" She throws herself on her stomach in front of his cell, so they are on the same eyelevel, and cups her chin in her hands, legs up in the air behind her and kicking excitedly. "Tell me everything," she demands giddily, like they're having a friendly sleepover instead of him being sick as a dog in a jail cell.

Marshall Lee decides that this will be a lovely time to flex his pranking muscles, and obliges.

* * *

><p>Fionna has always known that Marshall Lee is a guy. She knows it the same way that she knows Cake is a cat, or Gumball is a Prince; it's a fact that she is aware of, but has never really given much thought to. The sky is blue, the grass is green, burritos are delicious and Marshall Lee is a guy.<p>

Until lately, she didn't really hang out with him as often as she'd like to. She's always been a bit intimidated by the fact that he's like a gazillion years old, and he'll always be a gazillion years old. The vampire thing never really bothered her, because beyond some barely-malicious tricks during the first year of their friendship he's never given much reason for her to be afraid of him. He's a funny, friendly guy who she enjoys spending time with.

But she understands that he has his own agenda, so when she doesn't talk to him for a couple weeks that's okay. And when she doesn't talk to him for a month, she's a little curious, but understanding. After two months, she gets worried. After three she realizes that he just doesn't want to talk to her, and she's hurt. But hurt and sadness are not emotions that sit well with Fionna, so instead she just gets angry.

And she does to his house and roughs him up a bit, and then they're chums again and all is right with the world. And she thinks that maybe the reason why he was avoiding her is because he doesn't think that she actually likes him. Maybe he just thinks that she pities him, because his only other friends are some mean-spirited ghosts and Gumball, and she admits that she has a tendency to hog any free time that the Candy Prince has. And she doesn't want Marshall Lee to feel like that, because he's one of her best pals and she cares about him.

So she decides that she'll just spend more time with him, so that he knows that she really does want to be his friend and that she likes him.

The only problem with this plan is that she's actually starting to, you know, _like_ him. In a way that's slightly more than friendly. Not as much as she used to like Gumball (part of her, some tucked away part that she doesn't like to think about because it makes her sad, is still holding onto the hope that one day Gumball will realize his burning passion for her, and they'll ride off into the sunset and then do whatever it is couples do when they get together, she doesn't know because she usually tunes Cake out when the cat starts talking about Lord Monochromicorn.), but more than she used to like Marshall Lee before.

So it's not really so much that she's just starting to realize that he's a boy, it's more that the meaning of him being one is changing. And she hopes that this won't change their friendship, but thus far she's managed to stay relatively normal around him and now that he's back from whatever mope-fest he had a month ago the two seem as thick as thieves.

So she's understandably worried when Marshall Lee basically collapses after a fairly average fight with a fairly average ghoul. Whatever he'd done to destroy it must have taken a lot of energy from him, because he spends the next two days asleep in bed. He doesn't have a fever and he's not sweating, but she can't help but be nervous when he doesn't even notice her presence by his side. Normally, Marshall Lee is such a light sleeper that his eyes will snap open the moment she peeks through his bedroom door.

She can't spend all of her time with him because even if she's worried the world still goes on and there are still monsters to slay and citizens to rescue, but she pops in every few hours to check on him and usually he's asleep, and when he's not he's in a barely-lucid daze and groaning about tomatoes.

When she comes back to check on him after the third night, about two hours after dusk, her heart stops in her chest for a few seconds before hammering wildly. There is a monster-sized hole in his roof, the edges of which are covered in frost and icicles, and there is no Marshall Lee to be found.

Fionna has never truly hated the Ice Queen, because she knows that the woman is just sad and lonely and wants some companionship but doesn't know how to express it, but today she comes pretty close.

* * *

><p>"…so then I said, 'Sodomy? I barely know the guy!'"<p>

Ice Queen lets out a roar of laughter that shakes the stalactites of ice on the ceiling, pounding her fist into the ground and kicking her feet. Marshall Lee would laugh just as hard, but when he tries there is a horrific pain in his chest and he coughs violently. The Queen doesn't seem to notice.

"Oh, Marshall Lee!" she cries, wiping a tear of mirth away. "You tell the most excellent tales. I'm so glad that I chose to marry you instead of Gumball!"

Marshall Lee has regained some movement as the sun sets and the sickness begins to leave his body, and he is pleased when he can now shrug his shoulders without pain. "I've had a long time to collect some pretty snazzy stories, yeah. Besides," he winks at her and she blushes again, "that's what happens when you choose a King over a prince. More…" he lowers his voice until it's deep and husky, and he sees a shudder travel down her back, "…experience."

The Ice Queen blinks for a second and then exclaims, "Oh, right! You're a king! How did that happen, anyway?"

Bingo. Marshall Lee can barely smother a devious smirk. Instead he rolls his eyes, like the story is boring and unnecessary. "Oh," he drawls, sounding bored. "I was married to the Vampire Queen and it kind of came with the territory."

The Ice Queen glares abruptly. "You're married?" she asks tonelessly, crossing her arms. Her stance eases slightly when he shakes his head.

"Not anymore," he informs her, tightening the blanket around his body.

"What happened to her?" she asks, her voice still tight and apprehensive.

He doesn't bother restraining himself this time, and the grin that stretches his face is all fangs.

* * *

><p>Fionna cannot contain her rage, cannot think of a plan, cannot run fast enough. She calls Cake quickly and rushes through her explanation, ignoring the cat's demand that she wait. She can't wait, because she doesn't trust the Ice Queen on a normal day, but she especially doesn't trust the Ice Queen when she's kidnapped a guy who isn't in any condition to defend himself. At least Gumball could smack her in the face if she came too close. He wouldn't because he's a gentleman, but at least he <em>could.<em>

And she doesn't know what wrong with Marshall Lee, but she knows that he's too weak to help himself right now. So she'll have to help him, instead.

Fionna is not a particularly fast runner, considering that she usually relies on Cake for transportation, but it feels like the journey to the Ice Kingdom passes in minutes. When she stops she's out of breath and her legs feel like jelly, and she's not sure how she's going to be able to help Marshall Lee if she can barely stand herself, she just knows that she has to _try_.

She has no idea how long he's been trapped here, has no idea what the Ice Queen might do to him. Probably something pervy. (She shudders at the thought of pervy and Marshall Lee together, or maybe Marshall Lee being pervy. She tells herself it's in disgust.)

The large front entrance door has not been correctly fixed since the last time she'd kicked it in, so breaking into the castle is fairly easy. And she knows that Marshall Lee is likely being kept in the tallest tower, where all of the Princes are usually thrown into, so she makes a beeline for that. Her feet have memorized these steps from countless trips up here, though only a few times before has she ever been so frantic. The steep, winding stairs make her legs ache and burn, but she pushes herself anyway. She has to get there, she has to help him, she has to—

She slams the door to the jail room open, and it whacks against the wall with a bang. The shockwave ends several icicles crashing down from the ceiling, and she can barely see through the mist that fills the frigid castle. Her breath comes in pants, but she finds the voice to snarl out, "Where are you, Ice Queen?"

There is a long moment of silence. Normally by now, the Queen would have appeared and spouted some monologue about how Fionna is a horrible person who always ruins everything, but her nemesis doesn't show herself and Fionna is feeling understandably perplexed. She looks around and sees Marshall Lee on the floor, leaning against a wall of his cage with a blanket wrapped around him and a cheery smile on his face.

Once he has her attention, he unearths one hand from the fur encompassing him and waves. "Hello!"

Fionna deflates in confusion, then blushes so bad she thinks her face might explode once she realizes that he has witnessed her freaking out. Freaking out over nothing, apparently. Marshall Lee is fine, though he hasn't moved yet except for the wave, so she can assume that he's still not entirely up to his usual self.

"Um. Hi." She looks around again hesitantly, blush not subsiding. Marshall Lee seems happy to see her, at least. Although on closer inspection he looks more like he does after a particularly evil prank has been pulled off. "…where's the Ice Queen?"

There's a whimper from behind a desk, and Fionna cautiously edges around it to see the Queen huddled up under the furniture, clinging to her dress with her bright blue eyes wide and fearful. Fionna is thoroughly confused. "What happened here?" She barely finishes the sentence before her mortal enemy throws herself at the adventuress, and not to attack her. Instead Fionna finds herself in a crushing hug at the Ice Queen wails in dismay.

"He's a monster!" she cries, clutching at Fionna and shaking. "A terrible, vicious demon creature!" Fionna pushes her at arm's length and stares at her, taking in her teary eyes and a complexion that was abnormally pale, even for her. She turns to look at Marshall Lee in horror.

"What did you do to her, dude?" she breathes, torn between pushing the Queen away and petting her head comfortingly. She knows better than others the mean streak that her vampire friend can carry.

Marshall Lee shrugs, but his pleased expression doesn't fade. "Nothing," he says innocently and with a poorly concealed grin, especially when the Ice Queen squeaks at the sound of his voice. "We were just swapping stories."

"Devil!" the Ice Queen screams, pushing away from Fionna and diving under her desk again. "Get him out of here!"

Fionna looks between them a couple times, incredibly confused, but saying hesitantly, "I, um… I can't open the door to the cell without…" A key is thrown unceremoniously at her head from under the desk, and it bounces off one of the ears on her hat. She bends down to pick it up, bemused. How is it that she came in here about to rip the Queen's eyes out of their sockets, but now she feels almost… sorry for her?

Marshall Lee's cell is opened quickly, and he slowly and gingerly gets to his feet. He growls slightly when Fionna wraps an arm around his waist, but lets her pull most of his weight against her to help him stand. He doesn't like seeming weak.

They take two steps towards the door, and then the roof explodes as a massive Cake tears out the layers ice. The Ice Queen shrieks, and Cake has her teeth bared for a few seconds before comprehending the scene below her. Marshall Lee waves at her happily, and Fionna just shrugs.

"What…" Cake begins, one eyebrow raised in confused.

"I don't know," Fionna says truthfully, now pulling Marshall Lee towards the giant cat.

"But how," the feline stutters, lifting one paw to scratch her head.

"_I don't know_," Fionna emphasizes as she grabs onto Cake's fur and lifts herself up. Marshall Lee isn't doing much to help them understand. He's feeling too pleased with himself to clue them in. Maybe he never will. Every time Fionna thinks she's getting closer to understanding who Marshall Lee the Vampire King really is, he pulls something like this and she's once again thrown into the darkness.

The Ice Queen peeks out from behind her desk and hisses at him, "Monster!"

Marshall Lee glances over his shoulder at her and brings up one hand to his head, thumb as his ear and pinky at his mouth. He wiggles his wrist and mouths at her, _call me_. She squeaks and ducks back down.

His laughter can only be called sadistic, and he doesn't stop until Cake has brought them back to their house.

**(despite the fact that i've been excited about this chapter since before i starting writing the story, it just didn't want to be written. i'm kind of afraid that that's obvious, but hopefully i'm just over thinking things. if this chapter really is as weak as i think it is, then i apologize and assure you that i will try harder on upcoming ones.)**


	5. Blue Mind

One of the things that Marshall Lee has learned about himself over the last few hundred years is that when it comes to the women he loves, he's a bit of a doormat.

It might not seem like it unless you've known him for a while, but one of Marshall Lee's fatal flaws is that he cares too much. He cares a lot about his mother, and that's why he felt so betrayed when she ate his fries. And it wasn't even so much that she ate them, it was more that she was _never around_. He loved her and missed her, and this was back even before he'd been turned and he was still trying to come to grips with what exactly she _was_. So it was less about the fries and more about the fact that one of the few times she decided to hang out with him, she didn't even bother to consider that he was actually there. And that hurt, kind of. Marshall Lee never had a very happy childhood.

And let's not even get started on Ashley.

Even as awesomely evil as Marshall Lee is, he doesn't feel ashamed of caring. He doesn't particularly like it, but he won't deny it if it happens.

Marshall Lee is a fairly simple guy when it comes to his emotions. If he's friends with someone, he's friendly to them. If he likes them, then he likes them. If he hates them, then he shows it. Once you've secured a role in his life, he treats you the way he feels you should be treated, and he doesn't sugarcoat anything.

But of course, relationships change as they grow because that's the nature of the beast. When he and Gumball met, he could barely stand the snobby preteen, and used every opportunity to show it. When he first saw Fionna, all he could think was that someone dared to venture into _his_ territory and stink it up with their nasty human smells. But now Fionna is his closest friend, with Gumball at a near second, and even now those relationships are still changing.

And Marshall Lee may not particularly like his feelings, but he's not ashamed of them and he won't deny them. He might maybe kinda sorta possibly perhaps have a crush on Fionna. And by crush he means big whopping infatuation that makes the bats in his stomach do summersaults. Maybe.

It's not something that hits him suddenly, per say. It's more like something he comes to realize over the course of a day, and starts when Cake has brought them all back to their tree house and Fionna fusses over him like a mother, forcing him up the steps and into her bed because he's tired, but it's less of a sickness-tired and more of a wow-I've-done-a-lot-of-things-today-tired. He knows that after he's slept this off, he'll be right as rain and able to go back to his normal nocturnal schedule of pranking and playing the guitar and flying around Ooo like a maniac.

"Why didn't you just take me to my house?" he grumbles, growling at her when she hikes one of the many furs on her bed up to his chin. Fionna's tucked him in so tightly that he feels confined and trapped and it's not a feeling that he really enjoys, but he knows that she's still worried about him so he doesn't say anything about it. He'll just throw them all off once she leaves.

"Because," she says dryly, "you have a giant hole in your roof and your floor is probably flooded from the melted ice."

Marshall Lee opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and then snaps it shut. Well dang, there's not really a way he can argue with that.

"I feel better," he tells her, and he sounds petulant and childlike. In his defense, he's been lying around in pain for the past three days and he just wants to get up and _do something_, even if he knows he still can't. She knows it too, and raises an eyebrow at him. They have a staring contest that he lets her win, and he burrows under the blankets and sulks.

He can hear her shuffling around her room, and he takes the moment of silence to tunnel deeper into the furs surrounding him. They smell fresh and clean like they'd just been washed, and have a vague scent of vanilla, which is a smell that he's come to associate with Fionna. It takes him a second to realize that he's in Fionna's _house_, in her _bed_, sniffing her _sheets_. The concept is almost too difficult for him to wrap his mind around. Suddenly he feels hot inside the furs, like something is pressing on his chest and suffocating him, and his skin itches again, but in a _good_ way.

Marshall Lee quickly unearths himself from the sheets.

Fionna has just finished retying her shoes when she turns around and catches him watching her, and he doesn't quite know what's going through her mind but a blush dusts across her cheeks. He is silently thankful for the fact that movement is still painful, because if it wasn't he's not quite sure what he'd do in this moment. A million things come to mind, and the one that seems the most interesting is to push her against the wall and see if he can taste the color in her blush, too. He swallows heavily.

The moment passes quickly when she turns away again with a cough, and Marshall Lee sinks into the bed, sighing. It's for the best, really.

"So," Fionna starts awkwardly. She stumbles over what to say next, but soldiers on bravely, the little adventuress who could. "I called Gumball, and he said that he could have some of his people come down to your house and fix the roof." She fiddles with her backpack, which is leaning against the wall across from him, so that her back is facing him and she's bending down and…

Marshall Lee clears his throat. "That's nice," he says, his voice breaking slightly. Fionna twists to stare at him and giggles after a few seconds.

"Your voice cracked," she smiles, turning towards him fully and putting her hands on her hips.

"No it didn't," he says, crossing his arms and glaring at her. She rolls her eyes and laughs, and like that the awkward moment from before is forgotten.

Fionna stretches and lifts her backpack, flinging it over her shoulders and straightening as he watches curiously. "Thing is, Raggedy Prince needs my help. There was a fire in his yarn barn and he wants me to try and find out who started it. But I, uh, didn't want to leave you alone. Sooo…" She bites her lip, which is something that she only does when she's about to say something that she knows he won't like, and this knowledge distracts him (for the most part) from the lips themselves.

"Sooo," he prompts, eyes narrowing. She fidgets under his glare, but then lets out a puff of breath and pulls herself to her full height, glaring back at him.

"So, I asked Gumball if he'd come over here and babysi—I mean watch ove—I mean hang out with you. Just while I'm gone." Her bravado fades at his deadpan stare.

"What."

He's a vampire, for glob's sake! He doesn't need a babysitter, especially not _Bartleby Gumball_ whose idea of an epic fight is slapping blindly with his face turned to the side. "If there is any actual trouble then I'm going to have to defend him, too!" Marshall Lee snaps, all memory of heat and vanilla forgotten in the face of his embarrassment. Does she think so little of him that she thinks he needs a keeper?

Fionna wilts slightly, then closes her eyes and shakes her head. When she opens them again she does it with a growl that matches his, and though it isn't as deep as his there's no less force behind it.

"Gumball can take care of himself," she says coolly. "And it'll only be for a little bit and I just want to make sure that you're okay because I care about you, alright!" The last part is nearly a yell and Marshall Lee blinks in surprise. Fionna takes a few deep breaths and then continues quietly, "I'm worried because I care. So just… just indulge me a little, okay? I know you don't like being around us so much, but do this for me. Please."

Marshall Lee wonders if he can backtrack to where he has regained at least partial control over this conversation. "...What? No, I… It's not that I don't like being around you, I just…" He looks down and to the side, so his hair covers part of his face. "I'm sorry, okay?" he finishes quietly. He doesn't look, but he can hear Fionna sigh and move towards him.

He looks up at her from beneath his eyelashes as she leans forwards next to him, and freezes when he realizes that he's much closer to her face than he'd expected. She places her lips on his cheek gently, a mirror of the way he used to do it to her when she was younger and all he cared about was getting a blush and cackling as she squeaked. He's not really sure what this is, but he knows that it's not a teasing kiss. She leans away from him and smiles sheepishly, obviously thinking that she's gone too far, gotten too close, that he'll push her away. But instead he just blinks owlishly and she laughs.

"Alright," she says as she heads towards the door. "It's cool. And it's only for a bit, alright?"

Marshall Lee nods silently, not trusting himself to speak. He'd probably ruin the moment if he did, anyway.

"Try not to kill him while I'm gone!"

She exits the room, and Marshall Lee falls backwards into the bed and exhales loudly. What is he getting himself into?

And that's how Marshall Lee ends up being babysat by Bartleby Gumball, Prince of the Candy Kingdom.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee dozes for the next hour, not really asleep and not really awake. There's an energy thrumming beneath his skin that wants him to move, but his muscles still ache and his mind tells him that it's daytime and he needs to be asleep. The confliction keeps him half-awake in bed, huddled contently under the collection of light furs on the bed, surrounded by vanilla and trying to stave off the chill that's been following him since he'd left the Ice Kingdom.<p>

Around noon he gets his second wind and forces himself to uncurl, dragging one of the blankets with him as he stumbles out of Fionna's bedroom, down the stairs, and into the main living area. He is pleased to see that all of the windows have their shades drawn, casting the house into shadows and ensuring him easy movement.

Gumball twists to look at him from over the top of the couch and smiles after a couple seconds. "Hey, Marshall Lee," he greets, bringing a hand filled with chips up to his mouth. Marshall Lee grunts in reply and shuffles over to him, plopping down on the couch.

He glances down into the bowl of chips, sees that they're red, and takes a few for himself. They taste like nachos. "Sup, Bart."

Marshall Lee glances over at Gumball and is surprised to see that he's not in his usual princely garb. Instead he's in a pair of loose jeans and a sweatshirt, though his crown is still nestled snugly on his head. He can count on his hand the number of times he's seen his friend in casual clothing.

They sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes, watching some movie or another that Gumball's put in. It's an action movie, but it's one of those cheesy ones with terrible stunts and bad acting, so he's not really disappointed when Gumball turns to him and asks, "You feel any better?"

Marshall Lee shrugs. "I guess. Still tired, but after that I'll be fine. Kinda hungry." He takes another chip and sucks the color out of it, but isn't sure what to do with the gray husk left over. After a couple seconds he drops it back into the bowl and Gumball rolls his eyes.

"I bet," the Prince replies. "From what I heard you've gone without food for the last few days."

Marshall Lee leans back into the couch, slightly uncomfortable. What he doesn't want to say is that blood is so much more sustaining than color, and after his meal the other night he won't need to have actual substance for another week. And when that week passes, his body won't want to go back to living off of just colors. He'll want more blood.

He pushes that thought to the back of his mind, deciding that he can think about it later when he's alone. It's not an issue right now, anyway. Still, he avoids the topic of his appetite, and if Gumball picks up on it he doesn't say anything.

Marshall Lee glances around the room instead, and spies the white fur-shawl that the Ice Queen had thrown at him the night before, when he'd just woken up in her castle, tossed onto the ground next to the door. He gets up off the couch, ignoring Gumball's confused look, and walks over to it, bending it down and picking it up before heading back over to his seat. Gumball raises an eyebrow at him as he brings the fur up to his face and sniffs it, curious. It smells like moonlight and the sickly-clean smell of ice, like it'd been cured in a vat of bleach. He doesn't particularly like the smell, but something within can't bring him to throw it away.

"What's that?" Gumball asks curiously, and Marshall Lee sends a fangy grin over to him.

"Spoils of war," he says smugly, wrapping it and the fur from Fionna's bed back around him, encompassing him in a soft shield from the cold. Gumball looks at him, confused, before shrugging.

They return their attention back to the TV.

Marshall Lee knows that on a normal day, Gumball would be plying him for information, or maybe ignoring him entirely to do one of his science experiments in a corner. But this is one of their quiet days of friendship, where they can just be chill in the presence of the other and not have to worry about much. Gumball is only like this when they hang out outside of the Candy Kingdom, when he doesn't have to worry about image to dictate his actions.

"When Fionna called me this morning, I wasn't really sure what had happened," Gumball starts, crunching a chip and not taking his eyes off of the movie. Marshall Lee grunted, not really listening. "I was kind of under the impression that you were dying." At this, the vampire snorts slightly, rolling his eyes.

"She exaggerated. I was fine. Nothing really happened."

Gumball glances over to him with a grin. "Just a routine Ice Queen kidnapping then? That was your first time, right?"

Marshall Lee growls, but there's a smirk on his face and he almost looks scary, like he's going to pull out one of his demon faces. "My last time. She won't come near me again, not if she knows what's good for her."

"Remind me to annoy the secret out of you later," the Prince says with a laugh, chewing on the chips again. Between the two of them, the snack is almost gone, and Gumball chokes as he accidentally bites into one of the tasteless gray chips. Marshall Lee chuckles at his expense.

"But seriously," Gumball grouses as he picks the bits of gray off of his tongue, "Fionna was really worried about you. It was kind of weird, even for her."

Marshall Lee shuffles uncomfortably. This is starting to go into slightly awkward territory. Why can't they just watch the movie and be bros and not talk about lame things like this? Marshall Lee decides that he likes Gumball best when he shuts up.

Gumball turns to look at him fully, now completely ignoring the movie, and Marshall Lee sidles away. He wishes that he'd stayed up in Fionna's bed and just slept all day. The Prince's eyes narrow at him, as if trying to see into his mind, and Marshall Lee finally snaps irritably, "What?"

The reply is quick in coming, and now Marshall Lee just wishes that he'd kept his mouth shut.

"You like Fionna, don't you?"

It sounds like an accusation, and Marshall Lee is up on his feet and heading towards the door within a second. If he had all his energy back, he would fly, but for now feet will have to do. Gumball lurches to his feet and stumbles after the vampire, crying, "W-wait!" Somehow he makes it to the door before Marshall Lee does, and stands in front of him, panting slightly. Marshall Lee growls, eyes glowing faintly and fangs bared. He feels trapped, he feels betrayed, he feels frantic, he feels _guilty_.

"Calm down," Gumball commands, slipping back into his role as Prince, his voice forceful and sharp. Marshall Lee can't help but stop, but his shoulders are hunched like a wolf waiting to spring and his glare doesn't let up. "I just want to talk," his friend continues, a bit more quietly, his stance relaxing. "I think you owe me that. You owe both of us that."

Marshall Lee doesn't struggle when Gumball puts his hands on his shoulders and steers him back towards the couch, but he doesn't go easily either. They both sit down, and Marshall Lee glares at the ground. He doesn't handle guilt well, and can't help but feel like he's betraying his friend.

"So," Gumball starts, looking ready to jump up incase Marshall Lee decides to bolt again. But all the fight has left him now, and he just looks down at his hands with his brow furrowed. He feels exhausted again, but this is more emotional exhaustion and that's not something that sleep can cure.

"I can assume from your very mature reaction that you do," the Prince continues, and he doesn't seem as accusing as before, more like now he's just stating a fact. "And that's okay." Marshall Lee jerks his head up to stare at him, mouth opened slightly. What…?

"But… you…"

"I care for Fionna," Gumball says calmly, looking Marshall Lee in the eyes. "But not the way that she wants me to care for her." He looks away, and Marshall Lee thinks that maybe there is guilt in him, too. "Not the way that she deserves."

The Prince take a deep breath, then says firmly, "But that doesn't mean that I don't want her to be happy. And she cares about you, maybe more than she thinks she does. So if you can make her happy," he finishes, "then I am happy, too."

Marshall Lee isn't really sure what to say to this. He still hasn't exactly figured out what it is he feels for his best friend, and now suddenly his other friend his pushing him onto her? He thinks that his confusion is understandable.

"But I'm immortal, Bartleby," he says quietly. "And on the off chance that this works out -which it probably won't, by the way-, what am I supposed to do? Watch as she ages? As she dies? That's too much to put either of us through. It'd just be easier to stay friends."

The smile on Gumball's face is sad. "All sweet things with a pinch of salt, Marshall Lee," he says gently, and Marshall Lee wonders if maybe Bartleby is actually the one who's lived for a thousand years and maybe he himself is the younger of the two.

Marshall Lee is quiet for another minute, and then turns back to the movie, which is reaching the climax. It is a clear, but not harsh, dismissal, and Gumball accepts it for what it is. The mood is subdued, until the Prince goes to get some more chips and offers them to Marshall Lee, an apology for forcing an emotional discussion on him. Marshall Lee accepts the apology, and that is that.

They make small talk for the rest of the afternoon, carefully avoiding any topics of Fionna and feelings, and other girly things.

About two hours later, Fionna and Cake march in, both out of breath, irritable, and covered in soot. Marshall Lee can't contain a snort of laugher at the sight of them, and even Gumball has to lift a hand up to cover his grin. The cat is the worse of the two, her dirty fur standing on end as she slumps down to the floor and tries in vain to drag her tongue across her side to clean herself, only to end up choking and spitting up ash.

Fionna doesn't even stop to take off her backpack before she flops onto the couch between them, pushing the bowl, now empty again, to the ground. She doesn't hesitate to sprawl all over the two boys, head and back tucked against Marshall Lee's side and feet laying over Gumball's lap. It is a position that is born of familiarity, and even with his awkward new feelings Marshall Lee can't help but roll his eyes fondly as Gumball groans in dismay at the soot smearing across his pants and shirt.

"Oh, hush, you baby," Fionna growls, but it lacks any real venom and she slouches against Marshall Lee with a sigh, throwing one arm over her dirty face. He can barely contain his laughter at the look on the Prince's face.

"How'd it go?" Marshall Lee asks, hoping to distract Gumball before he can start sputtering in indignation. Fionna throws her arms back in frustration, almost whacking him in the head with her hands, her fingers ghosting lightly across his sharply-pointed ear for a brief second. The sensation makes him shudder a bit, but she's so wrapped up in her agitation that she doesn't notice. (He glances up and freezes when Gumball sends him a sly look, eyebrows raised, before he huffs and looking away again.)

"Horrible! Raggedy thought it might have been this fire elemental who's been hanging around the area, so Cake and I go to check him out, you know. Beat him up a little bit. So we get there and confront him, and he gets pissed and starts attacking us, so we kicked his butt and he exploded and got us all dirty like this. And then we went back to Raggedy Prince, and as soon as we get there he tells us that one of his sock-citizens admitted to accidentally burning the yarn barn down because he was lighting his farts on fire."

Marshall Lee and Gumball both snort this time, but Fionna looks up at the vampire quickly, her blue-green eyes narrowed into a glare. He shut his mouth instantly even though right now she only comes up to his bicep.

"So all that mess, for nothing," Cake pipes up grumpily from the corner, her voice almost coming out as a yowl.

Fionna breathes another sigh and leans against the boys heavily, head thrown back against Marshall Lee's shoulder. They sit there for a few minutes, Fionna with her eyes closed tiredly, Marshall Lee pointedly looking somewhere else, and Gumball staring at Marshall Lee with a smirk. Finally Fionna stirs, sitting up and stretching.

"I need to take a shower," she grouses, reaching up to pull off her hat. Golden ringlets tumble out and splay down her back and across her shoulders, pretty little princess curls that she shakes out as she lifts herself up, sending a wave of vanilla into Marshall Lee's face. Even Gumball, for all that he claims to be uninterested, watches her appreciatively as she heads back towards her room, kicking off her shoes as she goes.

Both boys jump when they hear someone clearing their throat, and turn to see Cake glaring at them. The cat's ears are pinned back and she lifts a paw, two 'fingers' pointing at her eyes and then swiveling to point at them, the universal sign for _I'm watching you_.

The two of them gulp, and then Gumball jumps to his feet.

"Well, my friend!" he says with a cheery smile, "I think that you should be fine without me now that our beautiful friends are back home." He winks at Cake, who stops cleaning herself for a moment to send him a look that is thoroughly unimpressed.

"I already got a boyfriend, lover boy," the cat says dryly before turning back to her grooming. Her eyes stay on them, though.

Gumball laughs brightly and moves for the door, wiping the soot off of his pants as he goes. "Farewell, Marshall Lee, Cake!" He stops and the threshold. "Oh, and Marshall Lee?"

The vampire tenses, apprehensive of what the Gumball might say, because there is a smirk on his pink-tinted face and Gumball is not a very mean-spirited person, but when he does get the urge it usually does not bode well for whoever it's directed towards.

"Good luck, and remember: you catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar. Good bye!"

And like that the Candy Prince is gone, and Cake is staring at Marshall Lee with suspicion, "What flies are you tryin' to catch?"

Marshall Lee needs new friends.

**(OH YOU GUYS. you're all so excellent. /MANLYTEARS)**


	6. Wash Away

There is a certain freedom in flying that Marshall Lee has yet to find in anything else. It's a calm, controlled escape where he can soar up into the night and flit among the clouds, as dark and dangerous as any predator of the sky.

He remembers the first time he'd flown clear as a ringing bell; the initial panic, the gentle criticism of his mentor, and then the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair and flapping his clothes, the contrast of the chilly breeze against the warm summer night, and the moon shining above him like a spotlight. Young as he may look and act, it's been a long time since he was a fledgling vampire, and now he flies with all the grace and finesse of an eagle.

It's a feeling that he'd missed, trapped as he was in his own body, and in the weeks following his recovery there are few times when he actually touches back onto the ground. Not when the sky calls to him, whispering of freedom, and for two weeks he forgets those caught in the mortal coil and he is rash and wrong and wonderful in his hedonism.

Flight is a very much a great equalizer of thought; at times he is free to move through the sky without worries, relying on muscle memory as he revels in the feeling of _being_, and other times the silence of the world above the ground forces thoughts to bounce and echo through his mind. Towards the end of his return to wellness, he begins to wonder if his friends are worried about him again. Besides briefly exchanged messages of good health between himself and Gumball, he's spent most of the last fortnight in blissful solitude, making up in earnest for the four days that he was out of commission.

Not that he dislikes spending time with his friends, but by their very natures vampires are not pack animals, and Marshall Lee is no exception to that rule. The longest he's ever been in close, constant contact with someone is the five or so years he'd spent with Ashley, who is also one of the only other immortals that he's had a prolonged relationship with.

For all his fears of watching his mortal friends fade away, the fact is that magical beings tend to repel each other instead of attract. Too much power, too many similarities, too much risk. One reason is because a feud between immortals is long and dangerous, especially to those who don't have the advantage of being supernatural.

(One of the worst things you can do, Marshall Lee knows, is to piss off an immortal. They have an eternity to plan their revenge.

It is a thought that's been haunting him increasingly over the last few months along with his growing affection for Fionna. He knows that Ashley is not dead in the same way that he knows that she's very, very angry.)

One of his reoccurring thoughts, one that he can't escape no matter how high he soars or how low he dives or how loud his guitar is, is a relatively simple one with a million complex responses. _What do I do now?_

He cares about Fionna. He knows that. He knows that no matter how far away he flies, he won't be able to forget it. He's just not sure what to _do_ about it.

With Ashley, it was easy. He hadn't known her very well prior to them dating, so there was none of the awkwardness in asking her out. Ashley was a girl, and Marshall Lee was a guy, and he liked her and that was the end of that story.

But Fionna is _Fionna_, and he knows that her favorite color is light blue and her favorite flowers are daisies and she prefers vanilla over chocolate. She's bled, cried, sweated, and even puked on him. They have a _history_, and he's not really sure how to approach this because Fionna is more than just a girl. She's his friend.

The way he sees it, this can turn out in one of three ways.

He could tell her and she could reject him, and this might result in their relationship becoming awkward and eventually detrimental, and they would have to cut it off the way you'd cut off a frostbitten limb. Painful, agonizingly so, but ultimately better for the overall health. Or perhaps she would be gentle, and it would hurt for a while but eventually he would learn to live with it and this whole awkward year would be nothing but a bittersweet memory for him to look back on when he's watching over her grave.

He could tell her and she could accept him, and they could have a wonderfully uncomfortable start before getting over themselves. And they would be happy, for a time, until she begins to look older than him and starts to resent him for being immortal, which is something that he can't help, really. And then she'll die and he'll be alone.

Or he could choose not to tell her at all, he could ignore the ache in his chest and they would continue to be friends, but perhaps never becoming as close as they could have been because he is afraid he'd let something slip. And she would die and he would mourn, and then he'd live for another couple hundred years, maybe even another thousand, before another vampire got the best of him. But he would _endure_.

When he thinks about it, actually, none of those scenarios end very happily. Maybe Marshall Lee was just not meant to be a happy person when it came to women. But if the ultimate ending between them was a death and a bittersweet memory, why not take a chance on it? The best that could happen is that she could reciprocate his feelings, and the worst that could happen is that she couldn't. Either way she dies at the end. Either way, he ends up alone.

Gumball had told him to take all sweet things with a pinch of salt.

If all he'll have left is a bittersweet memory, then why not try to make the memory sweeter?

Marshall Lee stops and hovers among the clouds for a moment. He looks up at the stars and thinks that maybe they could hold all the answers he seeks, if only he could fly high enough to reach them.

* * *

><p>At this point, Marshall Lee is flying less for the freedom and more for the feeling. It's more of a lazy float twenty or so feet off of the ground, slow enough to hear the plucking melody of the guitar in his hands but fast enough to use the wind rushing in his ears like a metronome. He has no real destination and knows this area well enough to know that if he doesn't have time to go back home before the sun rises then he can find a cave or tree to nap under until the next dusk.<p>

He decides that after tonight he will get back in touch with his friends. Two weeks is more than enough time to make up for three bedridden days, and now that he finally has a kind of-plan for how he's going to approach this whole _thing_ with Fionna he's a bit eager to put it into place. He doesn't feel guilty about his absence like he did before, because by now they should know that he needs his space sometimes, though Fionna's comment sometimes haunts his mind.

"_I know you don't like being around us so much…"_

Did she really think that? It's not that Marshall Lee dislikes his mortal friends. It's more that after a thousand years, he'd grown comfortable with not having anyone around. Even after five years of being the vampire equivalent to a social butterfly he still hasn't really gotten used to the idea that people enjoy his company.

His fingers dance over the string of his guitar, a mindless song that he's not really paying attention to. He skips a beat abruptly when a roar shatters the peaceful night, and he cautiously floats towards where it had come from. He lands silently on the branch of a tree and pushes aside some leaves to see what's happening from a safe distance.

Unsurprisingly, it's Fionna and Cake doing what they do best: kicking monster butt. Marshall Lee decides to hang back and observe instead of rushing in. He knows that when Fionna asks his help with this stuff, it's usually less because she actually needs his help and more because it's an excuse to hang out with him. He has faith that she and Cake can handle this themselves.

It's a sand ogre, a relatively rare monster that can shift its body around easily. It has only one weak spot; a gem set into his chest, right above where the heart would be, but it guards the gem valiantly and Marshall Lee can tell that Fionna is getting increasingly frustrated with the fight. Each time she swings her sword, the ogre loosens the sand holding it up so the blade slides through without doing any damage, and when Cake tries to wrap herself around it to slow it down it just falls through any gap it can find to spill over onto the ground and reform itself. It's a difficult fight, but he knows for a fact that she's fought more dangerous monsters so he's not that worried.

Fionna ducks a blast of sand that has so much force behind it that it would probably rip the flesh from her bones and twisted to the side, drawing attention to herself with a shout as Cake sneaks around to the back of the ogre quietly. The human girl dodges another sandy swipe and leaps up into the air, bringing her golden sword down on the ogre's head. The sword cleaves through the sand like butter, but as she continues her stroke it just reforms itself easily. She flips backwards, on the defensive once more, just as Cake stretches herself out and wraps around the head of the ogre, blinding it momentarily before it can think to shift the sand to where she can't reach it.

Fionna jumps back up, running up the side of its colossal arm, and lifts her sword to stab into the gem—

-…but is thrown to the side by a hand of condensed sand, the equivalent of running into a brick wall, and she lands roughly on the ground. Marshall Lee winces, but Fionna is tougher than she looks and picks herself up, though she leans on her sword with a glare. Cake is likewise tossed around, though she lands much easier on the ground thanks to her magical powers.

The ogre roars at them, and Marshall Lee almost laughs out loud when Fionna throws back her shoulders and roar in reply, though hers is more likely from frustration. He's too far away to hear what they're saying, but she and Cake appear to be arguing, and finally Fionna throws her arm out to point at the ogre in rage, and then steps forward and hawks a loogie that she spits at the ogre. Marshall Lee shudders in disgust, but almost jumps in shock at the sound of pure agony that the monster emits. Looking at them, Fionna and Cake also appear surprised, but then the feline chats excitedly and Fionna grins.

Cake runs off with a wave, sprinting on all fours in the direction opposite Marshall Lee, and Fionna once again engages the ogre. Now, though, she seems less inclined to attack, preferring to dodge and counter than go on the offensive. Now it's the ogre's turn to feel frustrated as Fionna continues to slip through his grabbing hands, leaping from place to place every few seconds and not giving it time to land a hit. Marshall Lee is a bit confused about their strategy, but then realizes that Fionna is just distracting the monster.

A minute or so passes, and he can see as his human friend gets progressively more tired. The downside to this plan is that it doesn't take the ogre that much energy to turn and swipe, but Fionna has to jump and dodge and roll to keep a step ahead. A blast of sand catches one of her feet and hardens, keeping that foot stuck to the ground, but momentum keeps carrying the rest of her body forward and she falls. Marshall Lee nearly jumps out of his skin when her trapped ankle cracks loudly, and her cry of pain prompts him into action.

He is about to fly across the clearing and slam his axe-base into the gem on the ogre's chest while it's distracted, almost seeing red in his anger, but then Cake shows back up, nearly the size of the trees surrounding them. Her entire body is bloated up and her cheeks are poking out like a chipmunk's, and as soon as she gets close enough she expels whatever is in her stomach all over the monster. Marshall Lee quickly ducks back into his tree, still worried but confident that the feline will defend their friend.

It's water that she's showering the ogre with, and Marshall Lee thinks that she must have run to the nearest pond and swallowed the entire thing. The monster screams in pain and loses its shape as the sand supporting it turns into soggy mud, nearly swamping the ground. The mud wets the sand holding Fionna in place, and despite her hurt ankle she slogs through the mire to stab her sword directly into the gem, which is now lying innocently in the mud without a body to defend it. The steel sinks into the bright green gem and cracks spider web across its surface with a ringing sound, until it finally shatters and then dissolves into dust.

Fionna, out of breath and incredibly dirty, doesn't even acknowledge the mud and just falls backwards into it, splashing Cake who hisses on instinct. Marshall Lee can see her chest heave with exertion, and he has to admit that it was a difficult fight, even for her.

At this point he decides to join them, floating down easily to their level. Cake sees him first, considering that Fionna has her eyes closed, and the feline jumps in surprise. "M-Marshall Lee!" she meows, and Fionna's eyes shoot open before she rockets herself up and out of the mud.

The vampire pretends to ignore this and grins at them both, carefully keeping his feet out of the mud. He's wearing flip-flops tonight and doesn't want to get his toes dirty. "Hey, girls. Late night monster slaying?"

Cake puffs herself up angrily, stepping in front of Fionna who is still too confused to say anything. "You mean you were there the whole time and you didn't try to help us?" The feline arches her back and hisses, tail puffing out. Marshall Lee is unimpressed.

"I came in about halfway," he has flippantly, unstrapping his guitar once again to fiddle with the strings. "Was just in the neighborhood, minding my own business. Besides," he winks at Fionna, who is now trying to scrape mud off of her shirt. She blushes violently at this, but it's a fairly normal reaction for her when she gets embarrassed so he tries not to read too much into it. "You girls looked like you had it under control."

Cake crosses her arms and continues to glare at him, but Fionna just sighs and says, "You'd think with all the monsters we've fought before they'd realize that we're just going to kill them and they'd stop attacking us."

Marshall Lee floats himself beside her, smirking and reaching up to flick some mud off of one of the ears on her hood. "Monsters are dumb like that."

Fionna hesitates, then grins at him. Beside them Cake snorts and begins to pick her away through the mud, rolling her eyes. "So what've you been doing?" the human asks, but it's just a curious question, not an accusation, so he knows that she's not upset or angry about the last two weeks. It's just a normal Marshall Lee thing, and he's glad that she gets that.

"Oh, you know," he smirks, "pranking, pillaging, larceny, arson. The usual stuff." She giggles, knowing that he'd never do anything that would actually put other people in danger. That's just how he is; he makes little stuff seem big and dangerous, just because he likes to screw with people. She tries to follow Cake out of the mud, but when she puts weight on her hurt ankle she squeaks and falls. Marshall Lee catches her elbow quickly, and though there is a teasing smile on his face when he says, "Took a beating, huh?" there is concern in his eyes.

"I've been through worse," she assures him, and she has. Once, during a fight with an elemental dragon, she'd been flung into a tree and sustained broken three ribs. She's has lacerations, contusions, concussions; you name it, she's gotten one at some point. "It's probably just a sprain." Nonetheless, when she tries to take another step, though much slower and more gently, there is still pain. She doesn't trip, but she does wince, and Marshall Lee rolls his eyes and sighs.

In a flash, he's snaked his arms under her knees and around her back, lifting her up into the air. She lets out a surprised squeak and clings to him, startled, and he lets out a grunt of laughter. "Chill, puffball. I got you."

She hesitates before relaxing into the hold, knowing that Marshall Lee has carried her like this before. It's no less strange to think that he's floating her over the mud bridal-style, though, and she blushes when they touch back onto the ground beside Cake, who raises an eyebrow at her.

"You got anything else to do, or you want me to take you back to your place?" Marshall Lee asks, shivering slightly when Fionna's breath puffs out against his collarbone. He picked the wrong night to wear a low-necked shirt.

"I can take her there," Cake growls at the same time as Fionna says, "No, we have to go tell the spirit of the woods that the ogre is dead." The two girls stare at each other for a second before Cake sighs.

"Alright, let's go," the feline grumps, and starts trotting in the direction that they'd come from.

Fionna makes to get out of Marshall Lee's arms, but the vampire just tightens his hold and raises his eyebrow at her. She blushes, then settles in to get more comfortable. After a minute of floating after Cake, she hesitantly curls up closer to his chest, not as used to the chill of the night as he is. Fionna is very much a child of summer and sunshine, and with fall approaching quickly the nights are getting longer and colder.

Marshall Lee himself is not exactly a space heater, being a vampire his skin is only lukewarm, but it's still nice and Fionna is kind of tired after killing monsters all day, so she rests her head in the dip of his shoulder and closes her eyes. Her breath ghosts against the twin scars on his sensitive throat, and Marshall Lee stills momentarily before continuing, his face impassive.

Cake glances back at them and rolls her eyes.

After a good ten minutes, during which Fionna dozes quietly against his chest, they arrive at a tree that is far larger than any of the others. In fact, while it was still in the distance, Marshall Lee had simply assumed that it was a building. But up close he can see the thick roots and the heavy limbs, and the tree stirs slightly in the breeze, like it's whispering. At the base of the massive trunk a buck and a doe both turn to look at them approach, and though their ears pin back and their sharp hooves stomp the loamy ground, they don't run. A male peacock croons at them from one of the lower branches, its elegant feathers spread for them to see.

As they get closer, the side of the tree facing them seems to shift, the bark rumbling and groaning before pulling at its base and finally stepping out of the wood, revealing the shimmering vision of a woman with clothes made of vines and hair of weeping willow leaves. She watches them silently, focusing on the human in Marshall Lee's arms. He jostles her gently and bends his head to whisper, "Come on, puff. We're here."

Fionna stirs, then groggily allows herself to fall from his arms, landing lightly on her uninjured foot. She wipes her eyes, then realizes where they are and squeaks. Marshall Lee resists facepalming, but the spirit giggles good naturedly and no offense is taken. Cake and Fionna both blow at the waist, a greeting that they reserve only for the greater magical beings, Marshall Lee aside.

"Fionna the human, Cake the cat," the spirit whispers, her voice thin and fragile, like a twig ready to snap. But there is power behind it, the power of the trees and the earth. She glances behind them to Marshall Lee, who nods his head in respect. This is something that he will do for very few people, and only those he considers equals. "Night's King," she murmurs, bowing her own head.

"My Lady," he returns, but says nothing more. This is not his visit.

The Lady of the Forest turns to Fionna, and it is clear that she is the one who will receive the attention. Cake backs up graciously to stand with Marshall Lee at a distance. The voices of both the spirit and the human are lowered, so the two not included in the conversation can't hear them.

Marshall Lee is content to look up into the branches of the tree and wonder if he can convince the Lady to let him take a nap in her boughs, since the sun is approaching rapidly and this little adventure has delayed him enough that he won't be able to make it back to his hose, but he glances down at sees Cake watching him with narrowed eyes. "What," he mumbles at her, trying to keep his voice low.

"What're you doing with Fionna?" the feline hisses back.

Marshall Lee sighs, because this is going to be another one of _those_ conversations. He's getting really sick of those.

"Nothing," he spits back, attempting not to make a scene.

Cake puffs up and grinds out, "You've been watching her! And all that winking and smirking and carrying her around!" She leans closer and growls, "You're up to something. I _know_ it."

Something in him snaps and he whispers harshly, "No, I'm not. I like Fionna and I'm not going to hurt her."

"…you _like_ her?" Cake asks curious, surprised out of her protectiveness and indignation.

"Yes," he replies, "I do."

Cake opens and shuts her mouth a couple times, unsure of a response. There's really no reason she should oppose Marshall Lee, not if he's not being a jerk. She wants Fionna to be happy. If Marshall Lee can make her happy, then that's okay, too.

"….Alright," the feline grumbles. Marshall Lee glances at her and raises his eyebrows in surprise. Cake faces him and glares. "But if you hurt her, I'll… I'll…" She searches for a threat.

"Do horrible, unspeakable things to me?" Marshall Lee suggests with a suppressed grin, and Cake nods enthusiastically.

"Exactly," she chirps, and then returns her attention to Fionna and the spirit.

That, Marshall Lee thinks in fond exasperation, went a lot easier that I was expecting.

It's another minute before the spirit dismisses Fionna, who hobbles back over to them. "Your house, then?" Marshall Lee asks with a grin. Fionna rolls her eyes and nods, and he's about to pick her up once more but then the spirit clears her throat and they all three turn to look at her.

"Night's King?" she murmurs, voice a bit stronger now, and Marshall Lee hesitates before shrugging at Fionna and walking forwards. He leans closer to the spirit, so that he can see through her transparent eyes, and bows his head once more.

"Dark things haunt the edges of my boundaries, little demon," the Lady of the Forest breathes, her talon-like stick fingers clenching. "Dark things that shy from the sun and disdain the living." Marshall Lee begins to feel a sinking feeling in his stomach, but doesn't interrupt. The Lady casts her eyes around, as if afraid they are being watched, and then leans in further. Despite the fact that they are only inches apart, Marshall Lee can't feel any breath being expelled with her voice, nor can he smell anything but the woods around them.

Abruptly she backs away from him and steps backwards into her tree, melting seamlessly into the bark. Before she has completely disappeared, she whispers, "Perhaps you should keep better check on your own boundaries."

Marshall Lee stares at the ground uneasily, all good cheer from earlier gone. Fionna calls his name hesitantly, and he looks over his shoulder at her. His smile is slow in coming and still troubled, but it is genuine and she smiles back, her own questioning. He walks back towards them, but doesn't explain anything. This was not their visit.

"Let's get out of here," he says, and though she is curious and hesitant she's also trusting so she lets him pick her up and lift off.

"I'll meet you at the tree house!" she calls to Cake over her shoulder. The cat yowls in reply, but it's faster to get to her house by flight, no matter how quickly Cake can run. They race over the trees and leave the spirit of the forest and if Marshall Lee does it to escape his apprehension then at least Fionna doesn't know.

He opens one of the windows and flies them in, placing Fionna gently onto the couch. At this point he had been rushing so fast to beat the sun that her hat is skewed on her head, blonde hair tangling over her shoulder and across her back. She flops back onto the couch, tired. She's not used to night schedules like he is. She's not nocturnal.

Marshall Lee carefully pulls her hurt foot up into his lap and takes her shoe off, smirking and briefly tickling her exposed toes with the tips of his fingers. She jerks away with a grunt and glares at him, but he just smiles and she rolls her eyes.

He gently examines her ankle, turning it slowly and prodding with his fingers. Every few touches she'll wince or jerk, and after a ten minute exam Marshall Lee sets her foot back down in his lap, satisfied. She lifts her other foot and sets that in his lap, too. He props his own feet up onto the table and crosses his arms behind his head.

"What's the prognosis, doc?" she asks, and Marshall Lee moves one hand to rub thoughtfully at his chin.

"It looks like a pretty minor sprain. You know what to do for those, right?"

Fionna nods and lifts her front half up to look at her ankle, which has swollen within the last thirty minutes. "Keep off the feet for a week and keep it elevated." Marshall Lee nods at her and leans over, bending her legs at the knees and ruffling her exposed hair.

She grins up at him, her blue-green eyes bright against the slight tan of her skin. She smells like vanilla and sunshine, and Marshall Lee wants to bury his face into her hair and stay there forever where he'll never have to worry about burning in the sun or watching the world die around him. His eyes drift down to her lips and her smile fades away, though not in anger or sadness. Neither of them really knows what's going on, but her breathing speeds slightly and he leans down, so her breath pushes lightly against him. She closes her eyes and there is so much trust in this moment and he bends his head…

The door opens with a bang, and both Marshall Lee and Fionna are insanely, gloriously relieved that the back of the couch faces the entrance and they're hidden. Cake doesn't even bother to look for them, assuming that Marshall Lee is gone and Fionna is upstairs. They hear her puttering around in the kitchen and neither of them moves, too horrified at the prospect of being caught. They stare at each other with wide eyes and as soon as they hear the stairs creak with movement Marshall Lee is already grabbing a blanket off of the couch, almost unseating her from her position with his haste, and is crouching on the window seat.

Fionna clambers to her feet and limps over to him, confused and shocked and unsure what to do, and Marshall Lee would help her, except he feels the _same_. They stare at each other for another few seconds before Cake's voice calls from upstairs. "Fionna?"

Marshall Lee glances at the ceiling, and then back at Fionna. He opens his mouth and closes it, then says firmly, "We'll talk later."

She hesitates and nods. Marshall Lee wraps the blanket around his head like a cloak and jumps out the window, flying off into the morning sun. Fionna leans out the window and watches him, her eyes turned skywards.

**(well, not gonna lie, you guys. this'll probably be the only chapter this week. as i've told some of you in my review replies, there's been some schedule trouble at my work because several people have gone off to college, and this week i am (literally) working all day, every day. except for friday. and honestly, any time that i am at home i'll probably be too exhausted to type anything, and will probably spend my time playing pokemon and watching let's plays of scary games. to make up for that, here is a doozy of a chapter that will hopefully tide you over until i can get back to working on this regularly.)**


	7. Yellow

**(obligatory authors note before the chapter to warn you that this is where i start taking advantage of the M rating.)**

Marshall Lee is not entirely sure what to do with himself.

Despite having told Fionna that they would talk soon, he's studiously avoided the human girl, even going out of his way not to fly over her frequent haunts at night. He just has no idea what to do. On one hand, he's frightened and nervous and doesn't really know what to do. He just doesn't know how to fix this.

On the other hand, he's excited and apprehensive and hopeful all at the same time. What if there isn't anything to fix? She'd looked pretty willing when they were on the couch together. With her golden hair and her soft skin and the way her breath caught when he'd leaned close to her…

One of his fingers slips on the string of his guitar, throwing the wrong chord into the melody and Marshall Lee jumps slightly. His hold tightens on the neck of the instrument to the point where his nails dig into the wood, and then they relax and he goes back to strumming mindlessly.

For the past week and a half, he's taken to playing his acoustic instead of his bass. It's not that he doesn't like the large axe anymore, it's more that he's just in one of his moods to play something slower and more soulful. Ironic, considering vampires don't really have souls. But when he strums his bass, the louder, deeper sounds that normally make his arms quake and his motionless heart jump in his chest just sound… heavy. Like he's lifting rocks instead of playing music.

Marshall Lee has had a long time to discover what he likes and what he doesn't like, and music is one thing that hasn't really changed over the last thousand years. The sounds have changed, yeah, but not the way it makes him _feel_. And he knows that playing music shouldn't feel like a chore.

The fingers of his left hand pluck against the frets and his right clutches a pick, a tool that normally he doesn't use but he's feeling a little out of sorts anyway and wants to try something he's not entirely used to. He pulls himself up straighter on his bed, his legs curled under him and the dip in the body of the guitar rests in his lap as he drags the pick across the strings.

Normally Marshall Lee is not much of a lyrical person, preferring to focus on the music itself than add words to it. But sometimes he'll strum out a melody and the words will just bubble out of him. He can't really say that it's from his soul or his heart because he's a vampire and he doesn't really have either of those anymore, but it just happens at times and he's never really stopped to think about why.

"Look at the stars, see how they shine for you," he murmurs under his breath, possibly not even realizing he was doing it. "And everything you do… yeah, they were all yellow." He gets another few seconds in before his ears twitch and something stirs in his gut and he jerks his head up, fingers stilling to grip the neck of the guitar once more. He sits up completely and stares at the door, because someone is in his house uninvited.

He sets the acoustic down and is halfway up off the bed before his door opens with a creak and blue eyes peek in slowly and cautiously. Marshall Lee relaxes because it's just Fionna, but then he tenses and stares wide-eyed because oh god it's _Fionna._

She opens the door just enough to slip through and then closes it behind her and leans against his, eyes turned down shyly. After a couple seconds they rise to meet his and she tries to smile, but chews one side of her lip nervously and once again his gaze is drawn to her mouth. "Is this okay?" she asks, reaching up with one hand to grab a tendril of hair and twirl it, but the action is more anxious than coy and he clears his throat, which has suddenly gone dry, and nods. He realizes that she's forgone her hat today.

She takes a step forwards, stops, and then continues her way to his bed with a confidence that he can't tell is fake or not. She places one knee on the bed, then another, and crawls until she's sitting in front of him with her legs tucked to the side. He smiles at her to try and lighten the mood, but she just blushes and ducks her head, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. He clears his throat again.

"Fi, what's u—?"

"What were you playing just now?" she asks, leaning forwards slightly and looking at him fully.

Marshall Lee grips the guitar and shrugs, not able to look her in the eyes. "I don't know," he tells her truthfully, and tenses when her hand reaches out for his. She stops when she sees him clench, then continues slowly and rests her palm on the outside of his hand. She covers the fingers holding the strings tightly, wraps around them and pulls them so he's not abusing his instrument.

He glances up at her through his hair and her smile is hesitant and halting, but still sweet and she asks quietly, "Play it for me?"

Marshall Lee stares at her for a moment, then clears his throat again and places the pick back down onto the strings. She leans back to give him space.

It takes him a bit to remember the melody that he'd been playing, but once he does the words come easily enough and he breathes out once more, "Look at the stars, see how they shine for you… and everything you do." He glances up at her and holds her gaze. "And they were all yellow."

A smile curls her lips and she brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, placing her chin on them and closing her eyes. Marshall Lee continues singing.

"I came along… I wrote a song for you… and everything you do." He looks up again and now she's watching him through half lidded eyes that carry a slowly burning heat that he hasn't seen in a very long time. Something shoots down his spine at that look, and he almost misses the beat before he croons, "And it was called Yellow."

He closes his eyes and tries to block out that she's here, in his room, in his _bed_, and he's practically serenading her. "So then I took my—"

A hand brushes against his own and his eyes jerk open to stare at her, guitar lightly vibrating sound out. She's gotten closer, nearly leaning over him, and she tugs at his hand until he gives her control of it. She brings it up to her face and presses her cheek against his palm before kissing it gently. His breath hitches.

Fionna stares at him with hooded eyes and wraps her fingers around the neck of the guitar, lifting it out of his grip as she advances on her knees and setting it down onto the floor blindly, her eyes never leaving his. He doesn't even react when she puts it down off balance and it tips over onto the ground, twanging angrily. He's caught in her gaze, mouth lightly open in awe that this is _happening_.

She bends down and presses her hands against his chest and her lips against his neck at the same time, and Marshall Lee swallows.

He's not a virgin, hasn't been for a while, but he's still not quite sure how react because this is_ Fionna_ and he cares about her in a way that he's never cared about anyone before. He places his hands at her thighs, and as she drags her lips up across his jaw he drags them up to her hips. His fingers just barely brush the long golden strands of her hair.

She slips her legs to either side of his hips, straddling him, but doesn't put any weight into his lap. This probably a good thing. The angle puts her head up higher than his, and she uses her hands to pull his face up so that their mouths can meet.

There aren't any fireworks exploding behind his eyes and time doesn't freeze, but Marshall Lee works his lips against Fionna's and their noses brush slightly, and her palm cradles his face in something that is almost reverence and it isn't perfect but it's damn sure close.

Her other hand slides down his chest, ghosts across his stomach, and stops below his navel to play with the hem of his shirt. He pulls back in surprise and her head follows his, unwilling to break contact, but he turns away and grunts, "Wait."

She stops and pulls back, eyes hesitant and hurt and he wants to lean back in and kiss all of her insecurities away. "Not... I mean…" His head can't get the correct words to his mouth, but she seems to understand that he isn't rejecting her. Another smile tilts her lips and he can feel it against his own when she leans back in, but he pulls back once more when her hand slips inside his shirt to play with the light dusting of hair below his bellybutton.

"I don't," he starts, then swallows heavily at the look of complete want on her face. It's hard to remind himself that Fionna's never done this before, that she probably doesn't realize that she needs to pace herself, that this is going a bit fast, even for him. "…don't do anything that you don't want to do…" he says, and she lets out a breathless laugh before leaning back. He prepares himself for the chill of her body heat leaving his, but jerks when another type of chill races up his body. She grips his shirt in both hands and pulls it up, exposing up to his pectorals before it won't lift past his arms. He stares at her in surprise.

"I want this," she tells him firmly, but not angrily. Her hands relax in his shirt and she leans back in, kissing the stupid look off of his face. "I want you."

Marshall Lee lifts his arms, and she takes off his shirt.

He leans back and releases a guttered breath as she returns her attention to his throat, poking her tongue out hesitantly to touch the twin scars on his neck. Instinct makes him groan and dig his fingers into her pelvis, hips lifting shallowly against hers. He winces as she lets out a confused mewl, and then a surprised squeak as she realizes what happened. He closes his eyes and expects her to leave, only to have them jerk open again she traces the marks with the tip of her tongue. He moans a bit louder and thrusts a bit harder, and nearly jumps out of his skin when her own hips push down curiously to meet his thrust.

Marshall Lee throws his head back, eyes wide and throat working violently to see that she has her own head bent, chin tucked against her neck and her own breathing quickening. A blush makes its way from her cheeks to her neck, the blood pumping just under the skin and his pupils dilate. The vampire part of him wants to press his fangs into that ripe flesh, wants to know what it's like to fuck someone who's actually _alive_ and not just immortal. The human part just wants to see how far down that blush will go.

It's the more primal side of him that grabs her arms and twists, ignoring her yelp of surprise and her fingers gripping at his biceps to drag her under him. He puts his weight on his forearms and knees and buries his face into her shoulder with a growl. She smells like vanilla and sunshine and _human_ and he drags his teeth against her skin. Anyone else would have seen it as a warning, but she's Fionna and she's trusting and naive and he's making her feel things that she'd never even known _existed_ before now, so she just moans and throws her arms around his shoulders and hikes her legs up so that her knees are up to his hips and squeezes with her shins, fingers scratching lightly across his bare back.

He's unbearably hard and all thoughts of going slow are thrown out the window along with his more rational side as his presses down into her, uncaring that they're both still clothed except for his missing shirt. He sets a pace that leaves her keening, unused to the amount of pleasure thrumming through her body as he frots against her with a growl. Her breath is hitching and she's almost hiccupping as she reaches down and claws at his lower back before her spine snaps outward and she arcs against him, nearly vibrating. He snarls and digs his teeth into her collarbone, not to bleed or to turn but to _mark_.

She gasps in air and throws her head to the side, eyes staring off into the distance as she comes down from her high, and the subtle shift allows him to stomp down his bestial side harshly. He blinks, back to normal, and though he's still painfully hard he won't let himself take anything more from her than she's already given. He presses a gentle kiss against the pinpricks on her shoulder and she stirs sleepily, drowsy now that the adrenaline has run its course. He realizes that his weight is mostly on her and rolls to the side, careful not to jostle the contents of his pants. He winces anyway.

She turns herself to look at him, her ocean-blue eyes at half mast, and a slow lazy smile stretches across her face. He returns it despite how uncomfortable he feels and doesn't pull away when she scoots closer to wrap her arms around his bare chest and curl up into the safety his body provides. He smiles into her hair, even if she can't see it, and kisses the crown of her head, chuckling when she lets out a sound like a purr.

"I love you," he murmurs softly, and closes his eyes.

Marshall Lee jerks awake with a gasp. The sheets feel too hot and his hips are sticky and the smell of sweat is heavy in the air. He runs a hand through his hair groggily, then shifts and realizes what's just happened. With no small amount of horror, he lifts the sheets and confirms his fears. That hasn't happened in a while, he thinks, embarrassed.

Marshall Lee flops back onto his empty bed with a heavy sigh, and lifts his hands up to rub angrily at his face. Only one thought passes through his mind.

_What do I do now?_

* * *

><p>Following his highly detailed and rather graphic dream, Marshall Lee decides that he just needs to nip this in the bud and deal with it before it drives him crazy. He cares about Fionna. He thinks (or perhaps just really, really hopes) that Fionna cares about him, too. This needs to be addressed, and he needs to stop trying to run away from everything.<p>

The next night, almost a week after the couch incident, he throws on a checkered shirt and some jeans and grabs his guitar out of habit. After some debate he decides to bring his acoustic. Hey, if it worked in the dream, it might work in real life, right? He bites into an apple, tosses the grey husk away, and then opens the door and flies off into the night.

The hour-long flight to Fionna's house is spent in contemplative silence. Marshall Lee isn't exactly sure of what he's going to do, he just knows that he needs to do something. Probably apologize for disappearing. Again.

He arrives at her house and is about to knock on a window when he sees that about fifty feet from the tree she's stretched out on her back. He floats over to her and clears his throat. Fionna glances at him, then looks back up at the sky, not doing much else to acknowledge him. Marshall Lee swallows and rubs one of his arms nervously. This already isn't going like how he'd imagined.

"Do… do you mind if I join you?" he asks, trying to sound confident. He falls just short of it and sounds fearfully desperate instead.

"What are you doing?" Fionna grumbles instead of answering, her arms folded behind her head like a cushion as she stares up at the stars.

Marshall Lee thinks for a second, then tells her, "I'm winging it."

Finally she turns her head to look at him fully, her face impassive like she's not sure if she's going to cast judgment on him or not. Marshall Lee is not normally a nervous person, but she seems to make a habit of forcing him to do things he wouldn't normally do. After a long moment of silence she shrugs, and he assumes that that is the closest thing to acceptance that he's going to get right now.

Marshall Lee unstraps his guitar and touches down onto the ground before shifting in a laying position, his hands folded together and placed on his midriff. They lay in silence for a few minutes and he wonders if this can possibly get anymore awkward than it is right now.

"So are we going to just not talk about this, or something?" she asks, and his question is answered.

And that answer is yes, this can get a _lot_ more awkward.

"I'm sorry," he tells her quietly, but it seems like all he's done lately is apologize and the words feel stale and overused in his mouth. Fionna must feel the same way because she scoffs and rolls onto her side so that her back is facing him, curling into a protective little ball. He sees her shoulders shaking slightly and his gut clenches in pain.

"I'm serious," he says, getting up on his hands and knees to crawl over to her, leaning so that he can see the side of her face. She glares out into the distance and she's not crying but her eyes are wet and dewy. They swivel to stare up at him and narrow. "I am, truly and completely, sorry."

"You keep saying that," she snaps coldly, "but you still always find the toughest ways to yank my heart-guts."

He grabs her arm and pulls her back onto her back, but it's not forceful or angry and she can pull herself away any time she wants and he won't stop her. Fionna has to know this. She has to know that he would never do anything to hurt her, not on purpose. She glares at him and blinks, and a pearly tear falls down her cheek. Marshall Lee lifts a hand and rubs a thumb across her face, catching it and wiping it away.

"I didn't know what to do," he tells her calmly. "You make me feels things. Like, stupid crazy things. Things that I didn't want to feel." She scoffs and rolls her eyes, but it's more like she wants really hard to believe what he's saying and can't and that hurts a little bit. She doesn't move away when he leans down further and rests his forehead against hers, just closes her eyes and lets out a soft breath. The position reminds him too much of his dream, but he forces that down. This is not the time for frantic heat and passion, this is more of a gentle and soft lingering touch.

"I was afraid before."

Fionna opens her eyes and watches him watch her.

"But I'm not now."

A slow, unsure smile crosses her lips, and then she throws her arms around his neck and buries her face into his chest, which is kind of weird because he's still on top of her, and begins to cry.

Marshall Lee blinks in surprise and carefully maneuvers them so that she's basically sitting in his lap and he has his legs crossed. Her hands clutch at his shirt and loud, wracking sobs wet his shoulder and all he can do is look around awkwardly and pat at her back.

He'd been expecting angry shouts and hoping for a bit of making out, but he doesn't really know what to do with a weeping girl in his arms.

"Um. There, there," he tries, rubbing one hand up and down her back and praying that Cake doesn't look out the window of the tree house and see this. He's not quite sure if he can explain this one away.

(_I swear to god all I was doing was talking, I have no idea what's going on, she just went crazy, oh god please don't scratch me, aughhh_. Probably something like that.)

So to recap, Marshall Lee has just basically confessed his love for Fionna, though in lesser words, while practically lying on top of her, and now he's confused and rubbing her back as she cries her brains out. Marshall Lee doesn't have a lot of experience with crying girls, so he's not really sure what he's supposed to do in this situation. After a few seconds, he just blurts something out.

"…So this pirates walks into a bar with a ship's wheel on his crotch. And the bartender says, "Man that looks uncomfortable." And the pirate says, "Arrgh, it's drivin' me nuts.""

Fionna leans back to stare at him in incomprehension, and Marshall Lee swallows. Off all the stupid things he could have said, he had to say that. After a couple seconds of confused silence, Fionna begins to giggle, and then laugh, and then she's hiding her face back into his chest and shaking again, but for a different reason this time. He lets out a hesitant smile when she snorts and the laughter fades into light chuckles.

"You're an idiot," she states into his wet shirt. He very carefully rests his chin onto the top of her head and shrugs.

"Yeah."

She leans back and wipes her eyes, pressing the tears away, and smiles a shy wet smile at him. "I'm sorry, too," she says, and looks down to stare at her fingers as they play with the folds of his shirt. "It's been a tough week for me. On top of all… _this_ I had to deal with a hurt ankle and Cake complaining about Lord Monochromicorn." She tries to smooth out his wrinkles but mostly she just spreads the wetness around so she stops. "And I'm really tired. And… and I was scared, too."

"It's okay," he murmurs softly, inhaling the scent of vanilla that clings to her hair as she clings to him.

"I shouldn't have expected you to do everything," Fionna whispers, pressing her ear against his chest. He wonders what she hears in there, if it's hollow like the way it feels sometimes. He wonders if she can press down on it enough and push a beat back into his heart.

Marshall Lee runs his hand up and down her back, more calmly now, and she curls up into him.

"So… what are we now?" she asks, glancing up at him from the corner of her eyes.

He shrugs and grins, looking up into the stars.

"Well. You're Fionna the adventuress and I'm Marshall Lee the Vampire King, and that's all that we really need to be, I think."

She stares at him and then smiles shyly. "I like that."

He looks down at her, then lifts one hand to cup her cheek and tilt her face up towards his. She closes her eyes, and he leans down and presses his lips against hers.

There's no fireworks and time doesn't stop, and her lips press against his and the moment is not perfect but it's damn sure close.

She tastes like yellow.

**(no time to talk, gotta leave for work in literally ten minutes, uploading this because i love you, sorry it's short OKAY BYE.)**


	8. Changing

He will never admit it, and will deny it wholeheartedly if you accuse him of it, but Marshall Lee is a bit of a romantic at heart. It's not so much that he's dependent on a relationship, or that he can't be happy without one, it's more that when he likes someone, he wants them to be _happy._

The thing is that Fionna herself doesn't really know how to be in a relationship, so most of the time when they hang out it's just that. Hanging out. And it's kind of weird, because Marshall Lee feels like he should be wanting more out of this, but he doesn't. It's something that he realizes about three weeks after they start this whatever-they-are and they haven't done much out of the ordinary of what they would usually do.

Every other night or so, they'll meet up somewhere and chill; he'll play his guitar and she'll relax onto whatever piece of furniture is closest, or she'll read, or she'll play video games, or maybe they'll just go out and find some monster to beat up.

But Marshall Lee is happy with this because he's with Fionna, and she'll smile at the ceiling or the sky when he plucks at his guitar and hums under his breath, or she'll read aloud to him, or she'll force him to play with her (he hates video games, those newfangled contraptions, he's too old for this crap), or they'll put the beat down on some monster or another. And then afterwards she'll put her head on his shoulder or reach out and grab his hand with hers shyly, blushing. He likes it most when she does this because then he gets to thread his fingers between hers and laugh when she ducks away, face red.

Yes, Marshall Lee likes being in a relationship, but he especially likes being in one with Fionna.

Cause, you know. She's _Fionna._

And because Marshall Lee is a romantic at heart, he ends up doing stupid stuff that girls appreciate that he wouldn't necessarily do otherwise. Like, once he'd snuck a daisy into her backpack, because he knows that she likes those. Or he'll leave an apple in her fridge after he leaves since she likes those and doesn't usually have them. Little things like that that don't really matter that much, but they make her happy and that makes him happy.

So maybe they don't really date conventionally, but Fionna is a pretty unconventional girl and Marshall Lee himself is just plain abnormal, so he thinks that it fits them. And when he's with her, he feels content, regardless of what they're doing. He just hopes that she feels the same way.

That's something he's a bit insecure about, honestly. Fionna is still trying to adjust emotionally to the shift in their dynamic, and things that come naturally to him because he's a bit more used to romance than she is (like hugging or holding hands and stuff) still startles her sometimes because Marshall Lee is romantic even if he doesn't show it much.

But Marshall Lee has an eternity to practice his patience, and he approaches this relationship the way someone would approach a stray dog; with caution and care and gentle encouragement in the form of hesitant grins and lingering touches, because he cares about her more than he realizes sometimes, but if she can't be happy with him then he would rather her be happy without him.

And he can only hope that his patience is paying off whenever they meet up.

* * *

><p>It's one of the rare mornings where Marshall Lee doesn't immediately crash with the rising of the sun. The times that he is awake to really appreciate the dawn are few and far between, and usually this is when he is his most subdued with both the moon and the sun low in the sky and the land of Ooo cast into a pinkish hue that would probably taste like strawberry, if he were able to eat it.<p>

He's at Fionna's house, has been for most of the night despite the fact that she's been asleep for the majority of the time, standing in the shadows at the window of the living room and watching the sun rise, plucking his guitar thoughtfully.

The night before had been one of those times when they'd hung out just to be together, and Marshall Lee didn't take offense when Fionna nodded off to the sound of his guitar, her head drooping onto her chest and legs curling up. He'd been playing a lullaby, after all. Instead he'd set down his instrument, hefted her up, and carried her up the stairs to drop her on her bed. Something Marshall Lee used to speculate about and has now confirmed is that Fionna could sleep through a tornado, and sometimes he indulges in a sadistic type of fun by putting her body into awkward positions. (Once, he'd dumped her into a bucket suspended in the highest branches of her tree, and she'd slept through the whole thing. Since then he hasn't bothered to be careful with her when she's asleep.)

Now, he turns to glance over his shoulder as Fionna plods down the stairs with a yawn, one hand lifted to rub at her eyes roughly. She stops and blinks at him as if she'd forgotten that he was here, and actually she probably did, before waving groggily and continuing into the kitchen. He raises an eyebrow and his lip quirks up as he sets down his guitar on the couch and follows her.

Fionna glances at him and grunts in greeting, still trying to wake up as she drags a pan out of one of the cabinets and sets it on the stove, turning on a burner. Marshall Lee leans against the wall and watches with a smirk as she grabs ingredients out of random, inconspicuous places, often having to return to a cupboard or drawer several times to get everything. When she's finished getting everything, a battered bag of flour, a glass container of sugar (the contents of which are dangerously low), a stick of butter, a carton of eggs, and a jug of milk sit innocently on the counter, which she wipes down quickly.

For someone who was raised by a family of cats, Fionna is a surprisingly messy person.

"How'd you sleep?" Marshall Lee asks after a few minutes of watching her eyeball ingredients into a large glass bowl. She drags the bowl to a different counter and hops up onto a stool, stirring all of it together and snorts.

"Not that good. Not that I don't like hanging out with ya, Marsh, but I'm not a bat. All the nocturnal stuff is jacking with my sleep schedule."

Marshall Lee shuffles awkwardly and shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels as he realizes that he hasn't really thought about that issue much. He looks at the ground guiltily and won't meet her eyes even though he hears her turn on the stool to look at him. After a couple seconds something splats against the side of his face and he jerks to see her aiming another spoonful of batter at him, one of her eyes squinted shut and her tongue poking out.

He growls at her, but she only rolls her eyes and stabs the spoon out at him, holding it like a ruler now instead of a catapult. "Stop brooding. It's not a big deal."

"Sorry," Marshall Lee grumbles, and he's not really sure if he's apologizing for being nocturnal or for feeling guilty about it, but she just huffs out a breath good naturedly and goes back to stirring the batter, smirking at him over the bowl. He gets back at her by coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her stomach, and burying his head into her shoulder.

Fionna jerks away with a stifled giggle, like she can't decide if she's supposed to feel embarrassed or not, then chokes on a startled breath as the gooey batter she'd flung at him is rubbed against her own bare throat. She squeals and pushes him away and he lets her with a laugh, stepping back and crossing his arms again, good mood restored. Fionna has the ability to do that to him, after all.

Having finally beaten the batter into submission, Fionna slides from the stool and pads over to the stove, where the pan has been heated. She dolls out a healthy portion of the thick batter into the pan and it spreads out, making a vaguely circle shape. Tiny bubbles well up on the surface of the cooking dough and Fionna steps away as it begins to set. After a couple seconds she turns and looks at Marshall Lee, who is watching her with his eyebrows raised. One fang pokes out as his lips turn up at the corners and he opens his arms in invitation.

After a moment of hesitation, Fionna steps into them and her own arms snake around his back and she rests her head on his chest, and as Marshall Lee settles his hands onto the small of her back comfortably and his chin sits on the crest of her head he can feel her sag into him tiredly. He still feels guilty despite her assurances and decides that he'll spend the next few nights by himself, and she can decide if she wants to come to him at night or if he needs to visit her in the day. The problem is that the sun is potentially fatal, and that greatly reduces the number of things that they can do together. Not for the first time Marshall Lee regrets that she has to sacrifice things that she enjoys to be with him.

Fionna rocks them from side to side slowly, and it almost seems like they're dancing as she slowly shakes off her exhaustion and he begins to slip into his.

Abruptly, Cake bounds down the stairs, sniffing at the air with her eyes closed as she exclaims, "You makin' pancakes?"

Fionna jumps away from him like he's on fire and is quickly at the stove, flipping the pancake with a spatula. Cake sees Marshall Lee and her tails puffs up in surprise, especially when she sees that he's glaring at her in annoyance. He and Cake have come to a mutual agreement to tolerate each other because they are both important to Fionna, but _no one interrupts cuddles_. She regains her composure quickly, or maybe she just loses interest because Fionna is dumping the completed pancake onto a plate and pouring more batter into the pan, and Marshall Lee isn't as important as breakfast.

Marshall Lee grabs a couple apples that he'd left in her fridge the night before and sinks his teeth into one as Fionna begins cooking in earnest now that she has another mouth to feed, and within a few minutes Cake is plowing into a healthy-sized stack of pancakes and Fionna is tossing some eggs into the pan to go with them. Cake picks up her plate and shuffles into the living room to watch TV and Marshall Lee takes her seat at the bar.

Fionna joins Marshall Lee at the bar and they munch on their respective meals, and he rubs at his itchy eyes as the sun rises in the sky. Fionna glances to her right at him thoughtfully, then spears a piece of pancake and raises the fork to him, one hand cupped under the bite to catch any syrup that might fall. Marshall Lee stares at it for a second, then says hesitantly, "Um… No offence, puff, but I can't really eat that."

Fionna blinks for a second, then realizes her mistake and mumbles out, "Sorry." But he doesn't take offense at it and reaches up to ruffle her hair, laughing at her squawk of indignation. She stares right at him and eats the bite as if to spite him and he rolls his eyes, but stops when she raises her fingers to her mouth to suck off the syrup that had fallen onto them. She's not looking at him anymore, probably doesn't even realize that she's doing it, but Marshall Lee still swallows heavily as her tongue darts out to run across her sticky fingers.

She stares down at her plate for a long moment, then looks up at him and says, "Do you ever wonder? What some things taste like, I mean?"

Marshall Lee turns his apple over in his hands thoughtfully, slightly uncomfortable, but this is more because he doesn't like thinking about the fact that's he's a vampire when he's with Fionna. "…Sometimes," he admits, picking at a blemish on the surface of the fruit. "Yeah, I do. Sometimes I wish I could eat stuff like pancakes, or take a nap in the sun, or stay awake with my friends." He looks at her and shrugs, a smile on his face, and if it's a bit sad then she doesn't point it out. "But I haven't been able to do any of that stuff for a long time, so I don't think about it much. The way I see it… I don't know what I'm missing, so I can't really miss it. You know?"

And it's not so much that he's asking if she can empathize with it, it's more that he needs validation that it's _okay_ for him to be different. So she smiles hesitantly and nods, saying, "Yeah. I get it."

They hold each other's gaze for a few more seconds before Marshall Lee lets out a yawn that causes his eyes to close and all of his sharp teeth to be exposed, and Fionna laughs and pushes him out of his seat, saying gently, "Come on, bud, you can sleep in my room. I'm not going to make you fly back to your house when you're half asleep."

Fionna ushers him up the stairs and he collapses gratefully in her bed, which still retains a bit of heat from when she'd been sleeping in it, and curls up into the scent of vanilla. He doesn't see that she leaves the room with a thoughtful look on her face, the gears spinning in her head as she plans.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee opens his eyes blearily and rolls over in the bed, unwilling to drag himself back into the waking world despite the fact that the shadows being cast through the slots of the blinds are thick and dark. His internal clock tells him that it's almost eleven at night, and he groans and buries his face into the pillow, inhaling the smell that is distinctly <em>Fionna<em>.

After a couple minutes of moping, he throws back the furs covering him and stretches, back popping loudly. He lifts himself up and stumbles down the stairs, but freezes when he glances out the window and sees a big tent in the meadow by the tree. Light shines through cracks in the canvas, and Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow. Has a travelling circus planted itself outside his girlfriend's house?

He continues down to the main floor, trying to brush the wrinkles from his clothes (in hindsight, spending two days and nights in the same pair of clothes is kind of gross. Next time he has an extended visit like this he decides that he'll bring another shirt or something.) and nearly bumping into Cake, who is at the foot of the stairs and blinking up at him tiredly.

"Um. Hey, Cake," Marshall Lee says, putting one hand on her shoulder to steady her. The cat looks exhausted and dirty, like she's been running around all day, and Marshall Lee wonders if the two of them had to go fight something while he was asleep. After a moment of debate, and when it becomes clear that Fionna isn't in the house, he steers Cake up the stairs and into the bedroom where she has her own little nest of blankets set aside. She yawns and curls up, mumbling a thanks, then opens one eye and says, "Fi wants you to go outside. And you'd better appreciate it."

He blinks at her, then says soothingly, "I will, don't worry." And since it's Fionna, that's probably not even a lie. Cake stares at him for a couple seconds, then closes her eyes and snuffles. Marshall Lee quietly makes his way back down the stairs, but a familiar smell hits his nose and he peeks back into the kitchen. It's a mess, with dishes and pans everywhere and he pauses because it smells like…

"Pancakes?"

Scratching his head in confusion, and a bit of apprehension because who really even knows what Fionna has planned, he opens a window and floats out, landing about twenty feet from the tent with one hand in his pocket and the other swiping through his hair to try and make some sense of order out of it. He's not really sure what he's supposed to do right now, and this is like the first time that Fionna has really taken charge of what they do.

Speaking of which, the human girl backs out of the tent, then sees him and waves, jogging over to him. The motion does things to certain parts of her body, and Marshall Lee takes a moment to watch appreciatively before she gets close enough to see where his eyes are.

"Marshall Lee!" Fionna calls brightly as she gets closer, and when she's next to him she grabs his hand and pulls him along behind her. He laughs nervously because he's not really sure what to do in this situation, which is kind of weird for him. "I was thinking about what we were talking about this morning, you know, the food thing and the sunshine stuff and I thought that maybe I could try something, so I called up Gumball and he pulled some strings (literally, because we needed Raggedy Prince's help but he didn't want to come down here) and we pulled this together and it's not quite like I thought it'd be but it's close enough, mmkay?"

She takes a deep breath and he stares at her for a long moment, trying to comprehend what she'd just said. He blinks a couple times, then shakes his head rapid and says, "…Okay. What?"

Fionna rolls her eyes and lifts one flap of the giant tent, and the light within almost blinds him. He throws a hand up as she pulls him inside, then squints around him. He hisses and yanks himself away and out of the tent, snarling, "Fionna, what the hell?"

Fionna pokes her head out and glares at him, but her glare pales in comparison to his because _holy shit she's trying to kill him_.

"Get in here," she says firmly, "and just look for a second before you go assuming stuff." Her face falls slightly and then hardens, but her voice is equal parts force and genuine worry when she asks, "Don't you trust me?"

Marshall Lee glares at her, but god help him he _does_ trust her, so his grits his teeth and nods, and Fionna's smile is even brighter than the _sun which is apparently inside that tent_, and grabs his hand and pulls him back in.

He hunches and hisses at the bright light, prepared for the searing pain to start, but when nothing happens after a few seconds his cautiously opens his eyes. There is warmth in the tent, and light; but not artificial warmth or light, and Marshall Lee feels a bit of nostalgia from when he was sixteen and sprawled out in the grass with a stalk of grass in his mouth and the sun overhead turned the insides of his eyelids a dull red.

He's still hesitantly, but more curious now, and even as he stays close to Fionna because this is so _unfamiliar_ he looks around. Now that he's adjusted to the brightness, he can see the walls and ceiling of the tent, and right at the top of the canvas there is a bright yellow ball and hangs, emitting light and warmth like the sun.

As Marshall Lee relaxes slightly in his open-mouthed wonder, Fionna grins and pulls him along to a tree, the only one in the confines of the tent, and pushes him down onto the grass.

"Fionna," he breathes quietly, "what is all this?"

The human fiddles with her hands, embarrassed. "Well… like I said, I was thinking about our conversation earlier. And I called up Gumball, and he had an idea that was pretty simple, all he needed was some chemicals and some magic, and well… we kind of created an artificial sun. It'll only last for a few hours, though." Marshall Lee turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed, and she hesitates. "Gumball was certain that it wouldn't burn you, so I thought… I dunno. It'd be nice to take a nap in the sun. And also I thought it'd be a cool, you know… first legit date."

Marshall Lee stares at her for a long moment, and she looks down at her hands in her lap and says quietly, "Too lame?"

"No."

She lifts her head to look at him in surprise, but instead yelps when Marshall Lee nearly tackles her, throwing his arms around her neck and dragging her into him, squeezing so hard that it almost hurt. He digs his face into her shoulder and sighs as the tension drains from her and she very hesitantly returns the embrace.

"Thank you," he hums against her skin, and he can't see it but she's smiling in relief.

After a minute or so, Marshall Lee pulls away and stares up at the 'sun' above them, closing his eyes at the warmth it emits and reveling in the feeling of it. He has always been a creature of the night, but it's been a thousand long, long years since he's felt the gentle rays of an afternoon sun and his lips pull upwards slightly. And Fionna watches him, both pleased that she's pulled this off and genuinely happy that he's happy.

She remembers something suddenly and then claps her hands, startling him slightly. "Oh, wait! Stay right here for a second, I have something else." She jumps to her feet and grabs something that's sitting beneath the tree and carts it over to him, and now that it's closer he can see that it's a basket. She opens it and pulls out paper plates and a plastic carton filled with something… red.

Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow curiously as Fionna lifts the lid on the tuber ware and pulls out a red pancake. He stares at the pancake for a long moment, and then his eyes lift slowly to meet hers.

"I put some food dye in it so that you can eat it. You, uh, can eat dyed food, right?"

Marshall Lee decides not to tell her that dyed food tends to taste muted and bland because it's the thought that counts and she's obviously put a lot of thought into this, into _him_, so he just picks up a fork out of the basket and cuts a piece off, lifts it up, and sucks the color out of it. It is a unique taste that's just the right amount of sweet to counteract the tastelessness of the dye and carries just enough of the original flavor for Marshall Lee to know that in another lifetime, he would have been addicted to pancakes.

Fionna can't contain her grin when he begins to eat in earnest, and that's okay because he loves it when she smiles, and she makes her own plate and they eat pancakes in the sun and this is pretty much the best night he's had in a while, with the warmth at his back and the warmth of her at his side, and for a first legit date this is turning out to be pretty epic.

And it gets even sweeter when he pulls her into his lap afterwards and kisses her so hard she's sure that he's trying to steal the breath from her lungs, and she's still not entirely comfortable with the physical aspect of their relationship (Marshall Lee has learned that in real life Fionna is not nearly as knowledgeable in pleasure as she is in his dreams, which kind of makes sense), but she can taste the sweetness in his mouth when his tongue pokes out to touch hers.

And once he's finished showing her just how much he likes pancakes and the warmth and her, the two of them flop backwards and even though he'd just woken up, Marshall Lee still manages to take a nap in the sun.

**(so as i was writing this i was trying to decide if it was too cheesy, but then i decided that fuck you i like cheesy. :| but seriously, you guys are awesome. thanks for being patient with me and not complaining about the lack of updates or good writing quality in general. unfortunately, the work situation doesn't appear to be fixing itself any time soon, so i'm gonna go ahead and refer back to what i said in the author's note of the first chapter: updates are erratic. which really super sucks, and i'll try to be relatively consistent with them, just no promises.**

**EDIT: had to fix a glaring mistake. not really sure how the update system works when replacing a chapter, so if you get two alerts i'm super sorry and you can feel free to shoot me.)**


	9. She is the Sunlight

For Fionna, the hardest part of being in a relationship with Marshall Lee is reconciling with the fact that he can be mischievous and sweet at the same time. It's difficult for her to not constantly see Marshall Lee as the smirking lunatic of her childhood and part of her sometimes expects him to do something crazy like pull a pie out of thin air and smash it into her face.

It's especially difficult to imagine that this is the same boy who kicked her out of her house when she's straddling him and he's doing something weird and _awesome_ to her throat with his tongue. But she doesn't like to think about things like that a lot because then her entire body starts to heat up and her skin feels hypersensitive, and that's a feeling that she's getting more and more frequently around Marshall Lee and she's not really used to that yet, either.

But Fionna's _trying_, and sometimes it's easy and sometimes it's hard and sometimes she gets so emotionally dizzy that she doesn't know if she should push him away to regain her space or if she should cling tight to him, because he always seems to know exactly what to do. Fionna hates not knowing what to do, she is not an indecisive person and she's always made decisions for herself. The fact that Marshall Lee knows so much, has experienced so much more than her, is both an irritating and a humbling thought. At times she hates the fact that he always knows what to say or where to touch to get her blood pumping, and at others she realizes that she is practically an infant compared to him.

In the end, despite all of his pranks and jests and immaturity, Marshall Lee is a King, ancient and powerful in his immortality, and he is choosing to spend his time with her.

Fionna is not sure how much she likes the thought that it's entirely possible that to him, she couldn't be much more than a passing fancy. Actually, no. She does know how much she likes that thought, and that's not very much at all.

But she also knows that Marshall Lee is not the type for fleeting emotions or apathy for feelings. For all that he is immature, there is very, very little of Marshall Lee that's childish. And she knows that he cares about her because he doesn't really hide his feelings, not for her or for Cake or for Gumball, and if he didn't like her then he wouldn't want to spend time with her, and if he wasn't concerned with grossly outliving her then he wouldn't hold her as tightly to him as he could, like he thinks that if he keeps her as close as possible he can protect her from the passage of time.

And he can't. He can want to, he can wish on every shooting star he sees and blow the seeds off of every dandelion he finds, but soon she'll look older than him and then after that she'll die and he'll just be there, Marshall Lee the Vampire King, eternal and constant as the sunlight he hides from and the moonbeams he basks in.

The only thing that Fionna dislikes more than not knowing what to do is dwelling on what she knows will happen.

So she'll just have to keep smiling and laughing and dragging him along with her, the sunlight to his moonbeam, and if they're even still together when her aging becomes a serious issue, then they'll just have to cross that bridge when they get to it.

She has hope, if nothing else.

* * *

><p>In the month that she's been whatever-they're-doing (she's still reluctant to call it dating because they're not really doing anything differently than they were before except now they see each other more and make out sometimes) with Marshall Lee, she's gotten used to fighting and adventuring and basically screwing around during the day and taking an hour or so nap before meeting up with Marshall Lee, and then crashing a couple hours after that. Or it'll be vice-versa and he'll be knocked out in her bedroom while she's just waking up.<p>

Either she needs to turn into an owl, or the people of Ooo just need to learn how to protect themselves.

But they're handling it in their usual rowdy, teasing way and are even learning new things about each other; like, Fionna is usually unintelligible after just waking up and it's impossible to carry a conversation with her, or that when he gets tired Marshall Lee tends to get clingy which can either be incredibly adorable or really, really annoying. And they don't spend every waking second together, so it doesn't feel like she's being crowded in this relationship and over all, she's pretty happy.

Even Cake, after her initial apprehension, has accepted and grown into the change in dynamic. Now the feline has more time to spend with her own significant other without feeling guilty about leaving Fionna alone. She'd even invited them on a double date once with her and Lord Monochromicorn, but Marshall Lee's horrified face when she'd brought it up was enough for Fionna to politely decline.

It feels weird to be spending so much time without her sister, but it's kind of a good weird, like she's growing up a bit more, becoming more independent and really growing into herself. The only real downside to this is that she's lost her main form of transportation, and her legs hate her for it now as she carefully shimmies down the side of the cliff wall at opens up to the mouth of Marshall Lee's cave.

Normally it's he who goes out looking for her, but they were supposed to meet up halfway tonight and when he didn't show up Fionna was equal parts irritated and worried. So here she is, loose rock crunching beneath her feet as she travels the familiar path to his house, listening to the water of the underground lake lapping up against the edge of the dock.

Fionna takes the steps two at a time and is about to open the door when she stops, hand resting on the doorknob, because there are voices coming from his living room. She's overcome with an incredible curiosity, and ducks down so that she can peek through his window.

So much for growing up.

Marshall Lee is the only one in the living room, but he's still talking and Fionna knows that he's not crazy, so she can assume that someone else is in the house and is just not visible. She hesitates, then very carefully lifts the window up a crack so that she can hear what's being said.

"…news of Romulus? Last I heard he was petitioning to start the hunts back up," Marshall Lee says, floating cross-legged in the air with a bowl sitting in the dip of his lap. He reaches in and pulls out a cherry, which he sucks dry. Then he closes an eye and aims carefully before flicking it with his fingers towards a miniature basketball hoop on the other side of the wall. Every now and then Fionna can see him glance at the clock and shuffle.

Fionna jumps abruptly, because the responding voice is light and female.

"Yes, my lord. He's been causing trouble again with the council. He's becoming very… insistent."

A girl walks in from the kitchen, a coffee mug in her hands. She looks only about ten or eleven, with pale-white skin and short cropped black hair that barely reaches her chin. She looks delicate and fragile, but moves with an ethereal grace that Fionna has come to associate with magical beings. Like Marshall Lee, her eyes are a bright red, and they stand out even more against her skin because she's so pale. Two fangs poke out from her top lip, and Fionna realizes with a start that she's looking at another vampire.

Marshall Lee snorts and tosses another cherry, sticking his tongue out as he aims. "Romulus is an idiot who can't see far enough past his nose to cause any real problems. It's his sire that we need to worry about. I'm assuming that she's pulling the strings?"

The girl sits on the couch and winces, trying to find a comfortable spot, and Fionna wonders why she doesn't just float like Marshall Lee. "Actually, Zoe has been rather quiet about all this. It is… uncharacteristic of her."

Marshall Lee turns to face at his guest fully, and Fionna's heart stops when he glances at the window with his eyebrows raised. She ducks down quickly and holds her breath, and after a few seconds she slowly lifts her head to see back in again. He must have dismissed his paranoia, because his full attention is now on the cherries in his lap, and he pulls out the stems and ties them together idly as he talks.

"You think she's planning something?" he asks, eyes lifting briefly to the window again. This time Fionna isn't fast enough and she's sure that she's been caught, but he doesn't react other than a quick wink at her before going back to his snack. Still, he doesn't invite her in, so she decides to just stay where she is and listen.

The girl sitting on the couch rolls her eyes and lifts the mug in her hands to drink from it, and when she lowers the cup her lips are vibrant red. Fionna can even see Marshall Lee glance down at them, and then to the cup and his expression can only be called longing. She realizes with a jolt that the vampire girl is drinking blood… from a coffee mug. She pushes that to the back of her mind when the girl answers, "Zoe is always planning something."

Fionna wonders how old this girl must be, to look so young but to talk like a grown woman. Even Marshall Lee stills acts the age he appears most of the time, but this female vampire carries herself like an adult, and her eyes are harsh, not warm and playful like his can be.

The girl follows the line of his eyes to the mug and snorts. "I don't see how you can settle with colors. You live on the mortal plane, you could feast every night if you chose to. Don't you get bored of tastelessness?"

Marshall Lee shakes his head with a laugh and says, "I guess that I'm just not the killing and flaying type."

"You're a fool," the girl snaps, setting down the mug to cross her arms and glare at him. "You're too soft, and all of your people know it. You need to come back and reassert your dominance before you lose your respect."

Marshall Lee smiles indulgently, but his eyes grow hard and he picks up a cherry and inspects it, saying, "If that were coming from anyone but you, Amalie, I would see it as a threat." His voice is hard in a way that Fionna has never heard before, and she can't help but be reminded of Gumball when he takes charge of a situation. It's a voice that wreaks authority and demands respect, and promises retribution if that respect isn't given.

If she'd heard anyone else speak like that, she'd have been intimidated and frightened, but the way Marshall Lee says it makes a hot feeling run down her gut and settle there. She shuffles awkwardly.

The vampire girl doesn't seem to share her sentiment, though, and immediately drops her gaze to her hands, successfully cowed. "No offense was meant, my lord," she mumbles quietly. "I am merely expressing my concern."

Marshall Lee stares her down for a long moment, then waves his hand and pops the cherry in his mouth, and once again he's just a silly teenage vampire. "None taken, kiddo."

The girl, Amalie, opens her mouth angrily, probably to say not to call her that (that's what Fionna would have done, anyway), but tenses suddenly and twists to look straight that the window. Fionna can't contain a squeak of surprise and her eyes widen just as the girl's eyes narrow.

"It would seem," Amalie hisses, baring her teeth, "that we have an intruder, my lord." She stands and cracks her knuckles, and even though she probably only comes up to Fionna's chest she is intimidating. Fionna wonders if that's just a vampire thing. "Shall I take care of it?"

Marshall Lee pulls out the cherry, still in one whole, red piece, and inspects the stem, which is tied into a knot now. "No," he says thoughtfully. "She's more than capable of taking care of herself." His eyes lift to Fionna's and he raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking up. "You can come in, by the way."

Fionna hesitantly stands up, then opens the door and enters the house, standing awkwardly in the threshold and twisting her hands together. Normally she wouldn't be so timid, but she's clearly stumbled in on something important, and the way Amalie is glaring at her puts her on edge.

But then Marshall Lee lands and snakes his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a one-armed hug and ignoring Amalie's shocked sputter. Fionna can't help the blush that brightens her cheeks when he bends to smirk into her hair, obviously enjoying the discomfort of both girls.

"Fionna," he says, addressing the human first, and Amalie stiffens even further, if that's possible. "This is Amalie. She's kind of like my second in command. She's my eyes and ears in the vampire kingdom when I can't be there."

"Pleasure to meet you," Amalie says coolly, like meeting her isn't very pleasurable at all. But Marshall Lee, who would normally get defensive at this point, doesn't really react to the apathy in her voice, so Fionna tries not to take offense.

"Amalie, this is Fionna. She's kind of my girlfriend or whatever."

Well, at least now Fionna knows that she's not the only one having difficulty labeling what they are.

"A human," Amalie says tonelessly, crossing her arms and staring at Fionna like she doesn't really know what to make of her. "You found a human and then you took her as a mate. I want to say that I'm surprised, but now that I think about it, I'm really not."

Fionna imagines that she looks like a tomato with all this blushing that she's doing, but Marshall Lee just shrugs and says cheerfully, "What can I say? I've always marched to the beat of a different drum."

The three of them stand in silence for a minute that seems to last a lifetime, with Fionna fidgeting uncomfortably, Amalie glaring at the wall, and Marshall Lee helping himself to more cherries.

Finally Amalie throws up her hands with a sigh and says, "Fine. I can see that you are obviously unconcerned with the state of affairs in your kingdom, your majesty." Fionna can't help but snort at the title, and Marshall Lee squeezes her against him lightly in good humor. "Unless something urgent happens between then and now, I will return in a year to inform you of anything that's happened."

Marshall Lee disengages himself from Fionna and steps towards Amalie. The human is struck by the difference in height between them; Amalie barely reaches his waist, and Fionna wonders if she was that small when she'd met him too, if she ever had to crane her neck up to look at his face. She's suddenly filled with sympathy for this woman stuck in a girl's body, never able to age or grow, never able to look anyone in the face.

Marshall Lee places a hand on Amalie's shoulder, and for the first time in their (admittedly limited) interaction thus far, Fionna can see her red eyes soften. "Take care, kiddo," he says, and there's genuine affection in his voice, but Fionna can't really bring herself to feel jealous. Somehow she just knows that while there is care between them, it's not the care that she needs to worry about.

Amalie rolls her eyes and says, "And you, my lord."

Suddenly, her entire body shifts in a way that is both similar and different to Marshall Lee's transformations, and in a few seconds a tiny bat flaps before them, fragile wings beating quickly to keep her aloft. She's about to fly out of the open door, but stops and turns, her beady eyes and upturned nose trying to form an expression. Whatever it is, Fionna can't tell, but her voice, warped and raspy as it is now, is clearly concerned.

"I was not lying when I said that you need to return. You've been gone a long time, and some of your people haven't even met you. They whisper that you've abandoned us. I worry."

And before Marshall Lee can even respond, the bat is flying off with a screech, leaving the two of them alone.

The remaining vampire sighs and runs a hand through his hair, as if trying to decide how to take her words. Even to Fionna the last sentence sounded ominously vague; did Amalie worry for the other vampires, or for Marshall Lee himself?

Finally he glances down and turns his full attention to her, and though she can still see the hesitant worry in his eyes he seems happier now. He holds out the bowl in his hand and offers, "Cherry?" She takes one and sucks on it thoughtfully.

"That was… interesting," she says, pulling out the stem and after a few seconds of wondering what to do with it, reaches over and pushes it into his pants pocket. He snorts at her.

"Just vampire stuff. Amalie pops in every now and then to tell me what's up." He lifts up his legs and begins to float once more, but his attention is turned to the cup of blood on his table. He picks it up and stares at the contents for a few seconds, and Fionna can see him swallow, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. After a bit of contemplation, and with her watching him, he finally opens the window fully and tosses the blood, mug and all, out into the water.

Fionna wonders if this is therapeutic for him.

"Now that that's over," Marshall Lee says cheerfully, "I can apologize for not showing up tonight. She kind of caught me by surprise. And… don't worry about her being a jerk. She's like that to everyone."

Fionna thinks for a long moment if this is where she's supposed to interrogate him about his relationship with the vampire girl, if this is where she's supposed to be jealous and petty and suspicious. But then she decides that she doesn't really feel any of those things and that she trusts him because, really, he's never given her a reason not to.

So instead she just giggles, "Hurr, she called you 'majesty'."

"Hey," he says defensively, but a smile plays on his face as he floats into the kitchen. "I'm totally majestic."

Fionna follows him and leans against the open doorway, one hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. "Marshall Lee, you're wearing suspenders."

He looks down and then grasps one of the straps in his hand and pulls, letting it snap loudly against his chest. The movement and sound causes tingles to start at the back of her neck and tickle down her spine.

"Suspenders are sexy," Marshall Lee assures her with a wink before opening his fridge and bending down to pour some more cherries into the bowl. Fionna can't really help but stare at his butt. It's a nice butt. Not that she's a connoisseur of butts, but she knows that he doesn't have a bad one at all. She pauses to think back on the last few thoughts and counts the number of times she'd said butt.

"Suspenders are dorky," she corrects, climbing up onto one of his bar stools and swinging her feet back and forth, grinning at him as he lets out an affronted gasp which is obviously fake.

Marshall Lee rolls his eyes and shoves the bowl of cherries into her lap, and she looks down to see that he's added some strawberries in with them, probably just because he knows she likes them so much. She eagerly bites into one as he says, "Suspenders on Gumball are dorky. Suspenders on me are sexy."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say, bro." Suddenly she's struck by inspiration, and her lids lower so that she's looking at him from under her eyelashes. He glances at her out of the corner of his eyes and then turns fully at her expression, apprehension and some other emotion that she doesn't really know the words for making his own eyes darken slightly.

"And suspenders on me? How would that look?"

His eyes trail up her body, almost physical with the heat and force behind them, and she struggles not to show that her breathing is getting just a bit heavier. He steps forwards, in front of her, and after a moment she obligingly opens her legs to that he can stand between them, his hands on her hips and his thumbs rubbing in small circles.

His face stops an inch from hers and she can smell the cherries on his breath as he nearly purrs, "On you? Super sexy."

Fionna leans in, her lips brushing his, and his dark eyes slide shut as he rumbles happily. But then she twists in her seat and slides down, leaving him leaning into the air as she says cheerfully, "Too bad I don't own any."

Marshall Lee blinks in confusion, turning to look at her as she pads towards the living room. She looks over her shoulder and smiles, and he growls out, "You tease…"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," she nearly sings, plopping down onto the floor in front of his couch. It's kind of sad that the floor is more comfortable than the furniture. "Remind me to get you a loveseat or something," she says, picking up another strawberry.

She's about to put it into her mouth when he snatches it from her hand, quick as a flash, and even takes the bowl with him. At her cry of indignation, he floats up towards the ceiling and out of her reach, laughing as she pouts.

"You were being mean to me. Mean girls don't get strawberries," he informs her before deliberately tossing one into his mouth. He doesn't chew it, doesn't even suck out the color, just holds it there and grins at her evilly.

"Now you're just being childish," Fionna whines childishly, and crosses her arms with a frown when she realizes her contradiction. She pointedly doesn't look at him, even when he gives an exasperated sigh, and that's why she's surprised when his face suddenly appears upside down in front of hers.

He floats over her, hands resting on her shoulders, and she stares at him with wide eyes as he pushes the strawberry out of his mouth with his tongue, offering her a bite. She doesn't really know what to do because before she was just playing around and she's a bit out of her element now, but the situation and the very idea of him feeding her is kind of a turn on, so she closes her eyes and wraps her tongue around the tip of the strawberry, and his growl of pleasure is almost loud enough that she can _feel_ it in addition to hear it.

Just as she's about to bite off what she's sucked into her mouth, Marshall Lee pulls away with a cackle, strawberry and all, and she stares up at him dumbly as he says sweetly, "Sorry, babe, but turnabout is fair play."

Her screech of frustration mixes with his laugher, hurting the ears of the tiny, delicate bat watching them from the shadows of the cave.

* * *

><p>Fionna forces herself awake, grunting into Marshall Lee's pillow beneath her head. The digital clock beside his bed tells her it's eight in the morning, and that she's only been asleep for three hours and that she needs to get home before Cake starts freaking out.<p>

She's about to push herself out from beneath his sheets, but Marshall Lee's arm winds around her waist and pulls her back in against him, forcing the air out of her lungs. She hisses in irritation.

"Gerrof me, I gotta go home," she slurs, pushing in vain against his chest. He just tucks against her tighter and rumbles in displeasure.

"Shuddup," he grunts, nuzzling into the back of her neck. She kicks out against him and he throws one of his legs over hers possessively.

Fionna grumbles vaguely but sleep is still trying to pull her in just like he's starting to succumb to it, and finally she gives in and lets him wrap around her. His purr of pleasure nearly makes her whole body vibrate, and she sleepily tries to think of a good excuse to give to Cake.

Never mind adorable, Marshall Lee is just really, really annoying.

**(so some incredibly excellent people drew some incredibly excellent fanart for this incredibly undeserving fic, and you should go click on the links on my profile _right now_ and bask in their incredible talent. in other news, not only is my work becoming an issue for this fic, but my wireless internet router is dying a slow, horrific death, and my connection to the glorious internet is fragile at best. but i shall prevail! anyways, i hope you enjoyed this gratuitously cheesy chapter because no relationship is sugar and rainbows all the time and we're going to hit some low points in the next few.)**


	10. You Are a Tourist

**(obligatory author's note, part deux. once upon a time an anonymous reviewer made a short and to the point demand for smut, and in this chapter i do not deliver. but i come pretty close, hurr durr.)**

Marshall Lee has never really been in a teaching position.

Being the ruler of a kingdom isn't really the same as being a teacher, per say, and while he is in a position of authority over his race, the very nature of vampires themselves make him little more than a guide at best and a figurehead at worst. After all, vampires are an ancient and powerful race, terrible and great in their longevity, and very rarely need to be actively led. That's how Marshall Lee gets away with dicking around topside for decades at a time without needing to actually oversee his kingdom. Unless there's an emergency, he doesn't really have much of a reason to be there.

Marshall Lee is a very hands-off King.

Which isn't to say that if he did show up he'd be completely ignored. No, he might not be around all the time, but when he does make his presence known, he is serious about the respect that he deserves. He'd fought too hard and for too long to completely fade into the background. When he wears his crown, his word is law, and every subject under him knows that.

For the most part though, Marshall Lee just leaves the council to deal with things. The kingdom doesn't need another dictator like his wife was before him and thus far they seem to appreciate his rather loose brand of control. And if he has a card up his sleeve in the form of Amalie keeping an ear to the ground, well, what his people don't know in his absence won't hurt them.

But back to his original thought, Marshall Lee has never really had to teach anyone anything. Even as young as Fionna was when they'd first met, just entering the real formative years of her character, he hadn't contributed much to her knowledge or view of the world. That job was taken largely by Cake, and somewhat by Gumball. Which is probably a good thing, Marshall Lee has a very weird sense of humor and he probably would have ruined her prematurely if given the chance.

Sometimes he wonders if he's ruining her now.

It's not like he's trying to, not really, but the thing is that he's a guy and he sometimes has issues with verbal affection. He's just also a very affectionate person, so he tends to display that physically instead. And beyond hugging and snuggling, which she used to do with Cake and sometimes Cream when they were younger, Fionna is not very well versed in physical affection.

So Marshall Lee will just have to, you know, teach her. Which isn't exactly a chore because Fionna is a beautiful girl and he cares a lot about her, and in the two months that they've been together she's grown a bit more comfortable with all the touching and closeness.

But the problem is that Fionna is very much a virgin, still unused to what all she's feeling inside, what all he's making her feel, and the short and short of it is that she was raised by _cats_ so she doesn't have any real basis for humanoid pleasure or humanoid relationships and at what pace they're supposed to progress, and cats are cuddly animals anyway. So most of the time Marshall Lee is the one to initiate physical contact _and_ the one to end it before it goes too far, and it's wearing on his nerves because he's a _guy_ and what do you expect from him, really?

And he knows that she knows what sex is (or maybe he just really, really hopes because he might be a thousand years old but that in no way means that he's going to be comfortable giving Fionna _the talk_), but she doesn't seem to know how fast is too fast or the emotional connotations behind it. And Marshall Lee wants this to mean something, he really, really does because he cares about this girl in a way that he wouldn't have thought possible if you'd asked him about it a year ago.

So if he has to be the one to set the pace, the one to say no, then he will do it with all the patience he can muster and a little bit more besides.

And that's how Marshall Lee ended up teaching his girlfriend about abstinence. Kind of. In a roundabout way. Okay, not really.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee will be the first to admit that he sort of has a thing for girls sitting in his lap.<p>

If he really thought about it, he'd probably explain that it was because he has an underlying neck-and-collarbone fetish (but considering that he's a vampire that's probably a given), or because he likes the way Fionna's hair falls around them like a curtain, a golden shield of vanilla that can block out nearly everything, from the storm outside that rocks the higher branches of the tree house to the increasing paranoia he's been developing that something is inexplicably _wrong_.

But then again, Marshall Lee doesn't really like to rationalize his feelings, he'd rather just feel them, so he doesn't think much about it and just enjoys the way Fionna's knees brush his hips and her hair tickles his chin and throat. They're not really doing anything right now, just basking in the _feeling_ of each other as the wind howls through the leaves and the tree groans around them.

This one of his favorite things to do because Marshall Lee and Fionna both are normally very active people, and sometimes it's nice to just sit and exist together for a while and not feel like they have to be doing something to stay interesting. No, he's quite content to huddle up on the couch with a blanket and his girl and listen to the thunder rumble outside.

Fionna herself is in a light doze and leaning against his chest sleepily, hands tucked around his back, and if he concentrates he can feel her heart beat through her skin and clothes, but if he concentrates too hard then his entire body starts to itch and sting so he doesn't think about that too much, either. He especially likes Fionna when she's in this drowsy, half-asleep daze because this is when she's less inhibited and just generally more affectionate, and she lets out a small sound of distaste as he shifts to wrap his arms and the blanket further around her.

"I dun like storms," she tells him in that matter-of-fact voice that she regresses to when she gets tired and less communicative, like a child who's talking just to say something. Marshall Lee has learned several interesting things about her this way, like how she likes candles but thinks that they're really girly (Marshall Lee was a bit defensive at that because he has like eighty candles all around his house and he's not girly at all, _thank you very much_), or how sometimes she likes to be the big spoon when they cuddle together, or that every now-and-then being the only human in Ooo is so incredibly _lonely_.

"Why?" he asks soothingly, running one hand up and down her back idly. She buries her face into his chest and mumbles something, and he shakes her annoyingly until she growls and unearths herself from the blanket to glare up at him. The effect is completely ruined by her mussed hair and generally adorable face, and he raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her.

Fionna turns her head to the side and says quietly, "Back when I was younger and still lived with mom and dad, we all lived in this little house in the grass kingdom. Have you ever been there?"

Marshall Lee nods, his chin bobbing up at down onto her scalp. "Mm-hmm," he hums, and Fionna seems to sink into the vibrations in his chest. "Big, wide, and grassy. Kinda flat."

"Yeah. Well every few months we'd get these super bad gale winds that would just rage around the plains for days because there weren't any mountains or hills for them to break against or to slow them down. And cats… well, cats don't really like storms."

At this Marshall Lee snorts and tries to imagine where a terrified Cake is right now, claws dug into an unfortunate Monochromicorn. It's probably a good thing that the cat isn't here right now anyway, because he'd lived in this tree for years and even he's a bit concerned at the way it's rocking at the top.

Fionna continues, her eyes glazed over slightly with nostalgia as she stares at the wall. "So I was just a little kid and there'd be a bunch of cats yowling and screaming, and it was kind of scary even though I knew they were family. So I never really liked storms."

"Understandable," he tells her simply, but can't help but follow up with, "I mean, for a wuss."

She pushes herself away from him to glare at him fully, her eyes narrowing and nose wrinkling in agitation. Marshall Lee tips his head back and laughs, long and deep, because she just has this ability to make him _happy_ and he still hasn't really gotten used to that. Part of him hopes that he never will. He leans forward and kisses the tip of her nose, but she pouts and turns in his lap so that her back is against his front and slouches, putting all of her weight into him and knocking his breath out.

"Stop treating me like a kid," Fionna grumbles, crossing her arms, and Marshall Lee has to restrain himself from pointing out that him, she is a kid. She'll always be a kid, no matter how old she gets, because she's _Fionna_ and that's just how the world works for them.

Instead he wraps his arms around her middle and pulls her back flush against her chest, and her breath hitches slightly and her muscles clench and then loosen when he dips his head to press an open-mouthed kiss against the skin above her jugular. This is a weak spot for them both; Marshall Lee flirts with temptation when his fangs drag across her flesh, and for Fionna it's a mix of apprehension and anticipation.

"I don't think you're a kid," Marshall Lee murmurs, even though part of him does, and she shivers when he pulls away and cool air hits the wet patch on her throat. His hand splays across her stomach through her shirt, feeling the skin twitch beneath the fabric, and he's equal parts alarmed and turned on when he realizes just how _small_ she is compared to him.

It's something even baser than vampiric instinct to bite and mark that coils in his gut, something more heady and _masculine_ that tells him to cover and protect and nurture this precious life that trusts him so completely.

Mostly, though, he just wants to know if he can get her to make those little noises that he likes so much.

"Good," Fionna says on a gasp as the lukewarm fingers of his other hand brush against the bottom of her shirt and then sneak in, trailing up the skin of her sides, up and down with his fingertips. It kind of tickles, but in a different way than normal, and she can barely finish with, "cause doing this with a kid would be really, really creepy."

His fingers still abruptly against her side, and his face pauses in the dip of her shoulder. Something in the way she says it strike a chord within him, bringing these feelings of guilt to the forefront of his mind. Because, really, Fionna _is_ a child. And as young as he himself might look and act, the fact is that he hasn't truly been a teenager in a long time. He suddenly feels dirty and cruel, like it's a terrible thing to touch her the way he is, to care for her like he does.

Fionna lets out a questioning sound, leaning back into him to try and coax some movement once more. After a few seconds Marshall Lee gains enough control of himself to remember that, by mortal standards, Fionna is a consenting adult who feels very, very nice sitting in his lap. But it is a sobering thought to realize that no matter how warm she feels pressed up against him, she will never be able to truly heat him up too, and it's a thought that he's unable to fully stomp down.

But he _tries_, he tries so hard, and Fionna doesn't really notice his hesitation, so he decides that he will do what he's always done and just take what he can get.

Fionna mewls when his hand raises, long guitarist fingers drifting up between the swell of her breasts and over the part where her bra meets in the middle. Marshall Lee hasn't really let himself go this far yet, hasn't really trusted himself to stop when necessary, and Fionna herself doesn't really look sure how to treat his exploration.

"Is this okay?" he asks gently, lips ghosting across the rim of her ear. He's reminded of his dream several months ago, and in that dream she'd asked him the same question. He's not really sure if this is irony, but it kind of feels like it.

It takes a moment, but Fionna nods and swallows, her pulse jumping in her throat, and Marshall Lee has a moment of weakness where he presses his mouth to her jugular and scrapes his fangs across her flesh, and it's almost like a tease to them both. His voice is deeper, huskier when he tells her, "If you want, I'll stop. You just have to say it."

Fionna turns to glance at him over her shoulder, and the way her eyes have darkened from a bright ocean blue to a cool cobalt, like a midsummer's night sky, almost rips a groan from his throat. "Okay," she murmurs, and her trust in him is almost tangible as he very carefully lifts her shirt from her shoulders.

She hesitantly turns in his lap so she's facing him again, but her arms lift to cover her chest self-consciously. Marshall Lee tries very, very hard not to stare at her because she's still not entirely comfortable with this yet and open appreciation can come later, when she's better able to handle it without taking it the wrong way.

Instead he just presses his face against the warmth of her collarbone, just above where her cleavage starts, and says into her skin, "I had a dream like this once. Only I was the one without a shirt on."

Even as he says the words Marshall Lee can feel her skin heat with a blush, and there is a horrible, terrible moment where he can almost smell the blood pumping beneath her ripe flesh and he knows that right now is the perfect time to strike, if he so chooses to. The moment passes with a lingering feeling of horror, and he wonders if he can bury himself so far into Fionna that he can escape his own instinct.

Fionna doesn't notice his brief second of terror where he's not sure if he's actually in control of himself, and she lifts shaky, hesitant hands to rest in his hair, cradling him to her. "Was it a good dream?" she asks, trying to decide if she's more uncomfortable than she is turned on because her skin feels like it's on fire where he's touching her, but in a _good_ way. She uses the question as a distraction while she attempts to figure herself out.

Marshall Lee thinks back to how his dream ended, with her happy and him not entirely satisfied and a confession that he's still not sure if he understands or not.

"It was excellent," he tells her. Fionna takes a deep breath and nods.

"Okay," she says again, and it's like permission so Marshall Lee drags his tongue across her skin as she shivers on top of him.

For all that Fionna is loud and exuberant during the day, she is surprisingly quiet and unresponsive to his touches. At least, vocally unresponsive. Her fingers grip and grab at him as he moves from her chest back to her neck, back to familiar territory and she's okay with this because she knows this, and if anything the fabric of his shirt rasping across her sensitive chest only adds to the sensations thrumming through her body, and she thinks that she could get used to this if given time.

At this point they are both unwilling to explore further than being shirtless, and he doesn't even try to remove her undergarments because they're making progress at a reasonable pace and he wants her to be comfortable.

The thing is, Marshall Lee hasn't been a virgin for a long, long time. But he knows that Fionna is, and he doesn't want to ruin this for her. He wants to give her _options_. He doesn't want her to look back on this and think that everything would have been better if only she hadn't let that vampire boy take away her innocence. Which, in a sense, is exactly what he's doing.

His cyclical thought process keeps bringing him back to him ruining her, and a fear that is quickly becoming familiar wells up inside of him again. He's corrupting her with every touch and every word, and it's not so much that he doesn't deserve her as that she doesn't deserve what he's doing to her.

Fionna whines when his fingers stop trailing up her side and her own hands clench, one in his shirt and one in his hair. Marshall Lee tries to shake himself from his stupor again, but reality (or maybe fantasy?) is slow in returning and it takes him a moment to return to his actions. She doesn't really notice, caught up as she is in the feelings racing through her body.

Marshall Lee thinks that maybe if he tries hard enough, he can save her from himself.

He drifts lower, or maybe she just arcs higher, and he mumbles against the skin of her chest, teeth raking lightly and tongue brushing gently. She lets out a soft keen as he dips into the sensitive skin of her stomach, and by now her knees are pushing her entire weight into his thighs and even if she realized it she probably wouldn't care. Which is good, because the slight pain keeps him grounded, keeps his head clear enough so that his hands don't wander any further down her back then they already are.

Even if he won't say it aloud, Marshall Lee knows that this is for her, not him. He just wants to make her feel _good_, wants to show her what her body can do, what _his_ body can do for her.

Marshall Lee is very much a romantic at heart.

His tongue presses into the indention of her bellybutton, and her spine snaps straight before she bends almost completely over him, her mind focused only on what she's feeling and not what she's doing. She twists so far that her breasts sit heavily on his head, heaving with every breath, a comforting and sensuous weight, and some strands of hair fall into the gap between his bent neck and his shirt, tickling his back.

He pauses to take a shaky breath, unnecessary considering his current undead status, but it has the effect of blowing warm air out onto her skin and a long, loud whine tunnels up from Fionna's chest through her throat and out of her mouth, and heat races down his own chest to settle in his groin. All he can think is that it's a good thing that Fionna is putting her weight on his knees now, instead of his lap, because that would just be awkward.

After a moment of consideration, Marshall Lee plants a wet, open-mouthed kiss on the skin below her navel and above her crotch, right where the skin starts to dip into her pelvis, then pulls back and blows cold air onto the wet spot.

Fionna's eyes snap open and he looks up, trying to see her face as she stares at the ceiling, mouth opened slightly as she shakes and shivers and vibrates on top of him. He feels equal parts triumph and shame as he realizes that he's just brought her to what is probably her first orgasm.

After a couple seconds she returns to partial awareness and slouches against him, body falling back into the comfortable and familiar rise and fall of his chest, her gasping breath puffing against his throat. Marshall Lee can almost hear her blood singing through her veins and he thinks that he has to leave, to go, to _get away_ before he does something that he regrets because she has this uncanny ability to make him forget his inhibitions.

He very gently removes her body from his, her muscles twitching and jumping beneath his touch, but her body is quickly wearing itself out with these new sensations and her grogginess from earlier is returning with a vengeance. She still finds the strength to sit up and place a hand on his arm as he makes to stand, and her eyes are confused and sad and scared all at the same time because he looks like he's _leaving_ and he's supposed to be showing her what to do now.

"Where are…?" Fionna tries, but her throat is dry from gasping and her voice cracks and peters out. As if realizing how vulnerable she sounds, she snatches her hand from his skin and stares at it in her lap, her shoulders tense.

Marshall Lee turns to look at her, and she looks so completely _sad_ that he can't help but tell her gently, "I'll be right back," even though right now he feels like he needs to be anywhere but here, as long as she's safe from him because he doesn't trust himself right now not to just _take_ because Marshall Lee has never really been one to ask for something that he really wants.

Fionna hesitates, but she's trusting and naive so she just nods.

Marshall Lee moves for the bathroom as quickly as he can without feeling uncomfortable and as soon as the door shuts behind him he pulls down his pants and grips himself roughly, teeth clenching and grinding as he replays the way she'd shuddered and shook and keened on top of him, thinks about how it would feel to hold her hips down and thrust into her, the sounds she would make and how she would gasp his name. It doesn't take long for him to come undone, and he braces himself up with one hand against the wall as he rides the waves of pleasure.

It's been a long time since he'd indulged in this, since he'd even really thought about it, and it takes him a minute to regain his composure and clean himself up and destroy any evidence of his actions. He definitely doesn't need an enraged Cake breaking down his door for defiling Fionna.

That thought sends the ones from before spiraling back into his head, and Marshall Lee leans his head against the wall and sighs angrily. He feels guilty that he'd done it, but he especially feels ashamed for having done it despite that guilt.

Marshall Lee turns to look at himself in the mirror, but the reflection is empty on the glass. It's another reminder of just what, exactly, he is. And it's a slap in the face of what he cannot be.

But he imagines that if he could see himself in the glass, he would see a world-weary boy with the eyes of a demon.

* * *

><p>A promise is a promise, and even though his head screams for him to leave and get out while there is still something left of Fionna that he hasn't ruined, his heart (dead and cold and still as it may be) says that he needs to go back to her and let her know that everything is okay. Even if right now it's really not.<p>

Fionna isn't on the couch when he closes the door behind him, and he follows her scent up to the bedroom, where she's curled up half-asleep on the bed. After a moment of hesitation, because right now she's tired enough that she wouldn't notice if he didn't come back (but he can't stand the thought of her waking up alone and thinking that she did something wrong), he shucks his shirt and slides between the sheets to press up against her.

Right here, like this, feels more comfortable, feels more _right_ than having her gasping above him, and even though he's the one curling up around her he feels more protected and cared for then he has in a while. Still, even though Fionna lets out a sleepy, questioning sound and he presses a kiss to her neck to show that it's just him, a long, lingering doubt still huddles in the back of his mind, wondering how long it'll be before he loses control himself and loses her forever.

He clutches close to her, like if he pulls himself in enough he can protect her from himself, and he whispers his fears into her hair, "I will destroy you one day."

He's not sure what he's expecting, but he gets a half-lucid, vaguely affirmative grunt in reply, and can't help but smile sadly.

Fionna is an adventuress and she's used to danger, and hopefully when that day comes she will be able to protect herself, because Marshall Lee isn't sure that he'll be able to do it for her.

**(this chapter was not supposed to be this angsty, but apparently i am unable to write normal sex scenes (or i guess just vaguely graphic foreplay scenes, in this case...) without _something being wrong_. sorry about that. and looking back on it now, marshall lee turned out a lot more whiny than i was going for. herp derp when can i write happy again.**

**also, cream is the female version of jermaine, jake's brother, in my head.)**


	11. Closing Time

Marshall Lee has never really regretted becoming a vampire.

He dislikes certain aspects of it, sure; not being able to eat normal food is kind of lame, the sunlight thing is a bit of a bummer, and the whole immortality shtick gets old pretty quick. (Buh-dum-tisss.)

But at the same time, he can't deny that super strength is epic, or that pyrokinesis rocks, and that whole immortality shtick can be incredibly awesome sometimes. And if there's one thing that he doesn't think that he can ever give up now, it's flight.

So yeah, being a vampire is not entirely horrible and Marshall Lee hasn't actually ever thought about what his life would be like if he were a normal mortal. Of course, if he'd never become a vampire, he'd have never lived long enough to meet Fionna or Gumball, so he'd never have a real reason to want to be mortal like them. It's a strange, circular thought process that kind of hurts his head to think about.

But it's a horrible, sinking thought that he's been dwelling on more and more often lately that he'll have to watch his friends _die_. It's something that he's always known, but tried hard not to think about. And it was easy for a long time because Gumball was still young when they'd met and Fionna was even younger than him. But now the Candy Prince is actually nearly twenty two and has grown to the point where even Marshall Lee has to tilt his eyes up to fully look at him.

It is a shock and a horror to realize that Gumball, little tiny _Bartleby_ who was still getting scraped knees and insisting in the existence of cooties when he'd met the brat, looked older than him by several years. Marshall Lee doesn't look at all childish, but he will always have a softer, more youthful face and he will never truly be able to get rid of what's left of his puppy fat because he will never be older than eighteen, never ever, ever. And it's just plain _weird_ to think that Bartleby has a defined jawline now. Weird and strange and kind of unfathomable.

He used to feel like being friends with Fionna was kind of creepy because she was so much younger, so much smaller than him, and now he can't help but wonder how long it'll take for her to start thinking that having a relationship, even a friendship, with an eternal-teenager would be weird. He doesn't want that to happen. God, he doesn't want that to happen so much.

But it will, and nothing he or she or they can do will change it.

Marshall Lee has never regretted becoming a vampire, but he is starting to wish that the whole thing didn't come together as a package deal.

But what, exactly, is he supposed to do? Stop feeling? Stop caring? Fionna makes him feel incredible, feel like more than himself, like there's something in him that's worth her attention and affection. She makes him smile and laugh and his cold, dead heart sometimes feels like it's jittering when she looks at him with those eyes that he sees in his mind when he slips off to sleep.

He can only watch and wait as nature takes its course, and try his best to avoid heartbreak for them both.

* * *

><p>By now, Marshall Lee really should have learned that you can't solve your problems by running away from them.<p>

The thing is, that's actually a very nice way to solve your problems when you're a vampire and your problems will probably die in another twenty years. That's how he's always done it in the past, anyway.

Accidentally piss off someone in the forest kingdom? No problem, just go chill in the land of fire for a couple decades and work on your tan, and they'll be dead when you get back. Screw around and end up offending some king or another? Simple, he's like eighty years old, he's already got one foot in the grave anyway.

But he can't solve his romantic problems like that. For one thing, the deal with Fionna's age is actually the problem in and of itself. For another, at this point he's just dug his roots too deep into this relationship to rip them up and plant himself somewhere else. Not without tearing his heart-guts to shreds, and seriously hurting Fionna in the process.

No, Marshall Lee has made his bed, and now he has to lie in it.

(Which, now that he thinks about it, is pretty much the entire source of his emotional turmoil. Beds and laying in them, that is.)

So yeah, you'd think that at this point Marshall Lee would just give in and accept that avoidance will not fix this, that you can't just pretend that there isn't a problem and it will magically go away.

Actually, that is exactly what Marshall Lee thinks, and so following their rather heavy making-out session, he pretty much disappears off the map. Marshall Lee is intelligent, but having intelligence does not always mean that you're smart.

The storm that night actually worked out in his favor, though; several minor towns were decimated by the cruel winds and harsh rains, and Fionna spends the next week and a half in a frantic tizzy to find missing children and repair houses and fix dams and bridges, and these are things that Marshall Lee couldn't really help her with even if he were willing to because almost all of the work is done during the day, when they can see clearly. So Fionna doesn't really notice his absence because she does what she can during the day and immediately crashes at night, and she doesn't have time to think about Marshall Lee or herself when she's too busy thinking about everyone else.

Marshall Lee spends this blissful fortnight of silence dwelling on his problems and possible solutions to them, throwing himself into even further depression and paranoia.

The most obvious answer would, of course, be to turn Fionna into a vampire. It's the easiest and simplest way to ensure that they can still be together despite time and distance; a vampire and their sire are always connected, no matter how far the space between them.

But even as it might be the easiest, it's also the most difficult. There are ramifications to throwing away mortality so flippantly. Marshall Lee has had a lifetime, has had many lifetimes, to grow used to solitude. Fionna is tough and brave and made of sterner stuff than most girls, but her heart is soft and mushy like a half-roasted marshmallow, and she will not handle the aging and death of her loved ones as well as he will.

It is a terrible knowledge to have, knowing that even as much as it will hurt to lose her, he will eventually grow numb to it.

But he isn't human like she is, never really was to begin with. Death among his kind is a natural, infinite thing. For mortals, especially ones as emotional as Fionna, death is very much finite. Losing Gumball would wound her horribly. Losing Cake would destroy her. Losing Marshall Lee… that's something that she will never truly have to experience.

So maybe, in the end… the easiest thing to do would be to break it off while it's still fresh, to cut down the tree while it's still a sapling and just let the roots die out on their own. Before Fionna gets too attached to the idea of a _them_ together, before they push themselves so far physically that leaving would just be even more detrimental.

It will hurt. It will hurt them, both of them, terribly and horrifically and tragically. But in the end, Marshall Lee is used to loneliness, and the best thing for Fionna will be to grow old and die with her friends. And he will look back on her and their time together with equal parts fondness and misery.

But Marshall Lee, for all his strength and fortitude, still can't decide if he actually feels like this is a real solution or not, or if he's just trying to rationalize things.

So he does what he usually does when confronted with an emotional problem that he's too overwhelmed to deal with; he hides away and squirrels himself up in his house and ignores the world outside for a while.

And everything works out pretty well that way, with Fionna scurrying about to repair the damage of nature and Marshall Lee plucking at his guitar and thinking more in a week than he's bothered to think in the last few decades.

But he can only use the excuse of her being busy for so long, and sooner than he expects she's rapping on his door and inviting herself in, just like she's always done.

Marshall Lee is deep in thought and strumming his bass and is not entirely inclined to return to the world of the living, so he acknowledges Fionna with a slight nod, but doesn't do much more than that. She pauses in the doorway as if sensing his apathy and takes a hesitant step inside, glancing around like she thinks that he might have company, before entering fully.

"Hey," Fionna says, apparently deciding to chalk up his antisocial behavior as one of his Marshall Lee-isms. It is a testament to how much these last few weeks have worn on her and to how tired she is that she sprawls across his couch without any complaint, only a slight wince as her sore muscles loosen.

It's strange to think that one day there won't be this familiarity between them. Since he's known her Fionna has been a solid fixture in his life, and since they've started this relationship the idea of that fixture has changed and grown.

Marshall Lee says nothing, just runs his fingers up and down the strings. It will hurt, like ripping out his heart, but he's doing this because she needs him to. Even if she doesn't realize it. Even if she hates him for it.

"You okay?" she asks, twisting to look up at where he's floating, a bit confused and hurt because he's ignoring her. Marshall Lee doesn't like the way her voice sounds, doesn't like that he's hurting her, doesn't like what he's about to do next. But he feels like this is the only real solution where she can actually be _happy_ at the end, and her happiness is more important than his.

"Yeah," he says instead, staring down at his guitar before sighing and throwing the strap back over his head and setting it down against the wall. He crosses his arms and stares at the ceiling, bobbing up and down lightly in the air, and he can hear Fionna shuffle on the couch. He pulls up what inner strength he has and says calmly, "We need to talk."

Despite having never been in a relationship before, Fionna has seen enough movies and read enough books to know that when someone says that dreaded phrase, it usually ends badly. She sits up fully and blinks at him, and the look on her face wars between being confused and being defensive.

"Is it about me being busy all week?" she asks, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them, trying to figure out what might be wrong. When he shakes his head with another sigh she bites her lip and tries, "…is it about what happened the other night at my house?"

Marshall Lee turns to look at her in slight surprise and backtracks, "What? No, that was… no. That's not it." He opens his mouth to continue but Fionna interrupts him, every moment that passes putting her more and more on edge.

"Because I can try harder," she says earnestly, hands clenching into the fabric of her pants and twisting nervously. "I mean, it was kind of weird but it was also really, really good and if you give me a bit of time I can get used to it."

He stops her babbling with a raised hand, palm facing her in the universal sign for _stop._ He then brings that hand up to his face and rubs at his eyes with it, wondering if he looks as exhausted as he feels. "It's not that," he says quietly. Fionna falls silent and clings even tighter to herself like she knows what's coming, even if she doesn't really understand why.

It takes all of his willpower for Marshall Lee to say, "I just… I don't think that this is going to work."

There is a long moment of silence before Fionna lets out a nervous laugh, like she doesn't know if he's serious or not and wouldn't know how to react either way. It kind of teeters when he doesn't respond beyond crossing his arms and staring at the ground. It takes her a few seconds to find in the breath in her suddenly cramped chest to squeak out, "Um... o-okay. You mean… us? We aren't going to work out?"

Marshall Lee's eyes slowly rise to meet hers and he gives a small, uneasy nod.

At the motion, Fionna sucks in a deep breath and shudders it out quietly, like wind blowing through a plastic bag with holes in it, like he's just plunged a knife into her lungs and she can't retain air. To her credit she doesn't start crying, but Marshall Lee still has that horrific cold feeling of dread in his chest and he wonders again if he's doing the right thing with this.

"Why?" she asks, her voice wavering slightly, and she clears her throat and swallows to try and make it steadier. He can't hold her gaze anymore, can't stand to see the pain blooming behind her eyes, so he looks back down at the ground and shrugs like the answer is obvious. (And it is, but that doesn't make it hurt any less.)

"You're a human, Fi. I'm not. It's… it was a nice dream. But this is just going to hurt us both in the long run."

He looks up at her when she moves and can see in her face that he's said the wrong thing already. Immediately Fionna is on the defensive, her shoulders set and her eyes narrowed.

"And this isn't hurting us now?" she snaps, her eyes wet and angry and _pleading_ for him to be wrong. "I know that you and I, we're different. I'm not some… some…" She shakes in a mixture of fury and agony as she tries to find the words, like her body is fighting over whether she should be mad or just sad. "Some stupid kid that can't think beyond tomorrow!" Within seconds the anger is gone, leaving her with this terrible feeling of tired numbness. "And I'm… willing to try and make this work. Aren't you?"

Marshall Lee says nothing as she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, forcing a tear to roll down her cheek. What is he supposed to say?

"I want you to be happy," he tells her quietly, staring down at his hands. "And that can't happen if you spend your entire life waiting for something that isn't going to happen."

Fionna's eyes are sad and he can hear the absolute truth in her voice as she whispers, "But I'm happy with _you_."

He wants to say that she's happy for now. He wants to say that she'll be happy until she's twenty-five, or maybe thirty, and she stops wanting things like adventures and starts wanting things like family. She'll be happy until she _outgrows_ him. He wants to say all these things, that he's doing this for _her_, but instead he just twists to look up at the ceiling, his hair falling out of his eyes.

A minute passes where he won't look at her and she won't say anything before she stands up, the movement startling him to attention. Her face is kind of red and her eyes are watery and she swipes one hand across her face before saying, "O-okay. I'm, um. I'm going to leave. And you… well, you can do whatever, I guess."

"Wait," he calls out, and she turns to look at him over her shoulder from where she's standing at the threshold, her eyes tired and a bit hopeful. After a couple seconds of working his mouth open and closed, he finally says quietly, "You should call Cake and wait for her to come get you."

Fionna stares at him for a moment before letting out a bark of humorless laughter. "No. No, I think I should leave now. But…" She pauses and thinks for a second before her voice wavers out and she finishes with, "But don't ever say that I didn't try to make this work, because I did."

The door closes behind her with a light snap, and the house is quiet again. Marshall Lee has lived a long time alone, but right now the silence of her absence is like the loudest thing he's ever heard.

He stays in the living room for a couple seconds before moving to his bedroom to stare at the ceiling there and try to ignore the hot, tight ache of his throat as he realizes what he's just done.

* * *

><p>Fionna sits on the dock in front of his house for a long time, her stockings pulled off and her bare feet dipping into the chilly water of the underground lake. She stares as little white fish with pale milky eyes swim up from the depths and twist around like little ghosts flitting across her toes, curious as to what's causing vibrations in their water. Every so often one will get brave and nibble at her skin before darting back down and Fionna wonders if Marshall Lee ever steps outside and feeds them bread crumbs. Probably not. Marshall Lee doesn't really eat bread.<p>

The things one muses on when they've just been dumped.

In the calm, rational part of her mind she knows that it hasn't really hit her yet, hasn't really sunk in. The rest of her mind feels like it's filled with cotton balls; light in weight but heavy in substance, like she's got a head cold but maybe that's just her tears clogging up her nose. Fionna is a very attractive girl.

She just doesn't feel like she has the strength to make it to the mouth of the cave, much less back to her tree house. Her legs feel like jelly and her arms feel like putty and her heart feel like lead, and none of these things are productive to getting her half a dozen miles away to her house. She stands up on shaky legs and wipes at her face, and looks down to the streak of wet now of the length of her thumb and stares at it for a long moment, like she's not sure where it's come from.

Fionna doesn't really know how she's gotten there but suddenly she's standing at the crest of the hill above the entrance to his cave, staring up at the night sky and the half-moon that shines with surprising brightness over the mountains. To the east, she knows, is the tree house, where she will collapse in emotional agony and cry her brains out while Cake does her best to calm her down. The idea is not at all appealing, but at this point she doesn't really know what else to do.

She turns to look over her shoulder towards the west, where the red-tinted lights of the Candy Kingdom glow faintly in the distance, an hour's walk or so from where she is right now. She thinks about Gumball and how little she's seen him lately, preoccupied as she was with Marshall Lee and her feelings for him and the sound of his voice and the touch of his skin against hers, and she wishes that she could go back to a year ago when life was so much simpler than it is now.

The sudden feeling of nostalgia pushes her westward, towards Gumball and familiarity, or maybe that's just the fact that she's bone tired and the Candy Kingdom is closer anyway, or maybe it's because she's just aching inside and Gumball has always been able to make her feel better. She doesn't stop to analyze it, to analyze anything, just pushes herself forwards and doesn't stop pushing and pushing and pushing until she's pushing herself into Gumball's castle and pushing herself into his bed and pushing herself against him despite his groggy, confused protests and clinging to him like a child seeking shelter from a storm.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee wakes to a heavy hurt and the bitter feeling of loss as he pushes himself upright and buries his head into his hands. For all that he felt guilty when he was with her, there are no words for the guilt that he feels without her.<p>

Fionna trusted him. She trusted him to care for her, and in his attempt to protect her he ended up breaking her.

He grips his hair and pulls, lightly at first and then getting rougher, like he can punish himself enough by doing this. A question he hadn't had to ask himself since before he'd started whatever they'd had (had. What they'd had. Had, had, had had had had had_ had_.) crawls to the forefront of his mind again, clogging up his thought process and forcing attention on itself.

_What do I do now?_

The easiest answer, the simplest, would be to continue living like he had before he'd met Fionna. He could go anywhere he wanted, do anything he pleased. His only obstacle before had been the sun and his heart, and after last night he'd pretty much assured that the latter wouldn't give him much trouble.

Only it _is_ giving him trouble. It's giving him pain and agony and he might grow numb to it eventually but right now everything hurts and it doesn't want him to get to that point.

But what can he do? He did what he thought was right, what he thought would be better for them both, and of course it's going to hurt right now but he's been hurt before and so has Fionna, and they will both deal with this in their own way. He will grow used to this and he will accept this and eventually he will get past this, and if he tells himself this enough then he will believe it to be true.

Marshall Lee forces himself out of bed and into the kitchen where he can get something to eat, because his heart isn't the only thing that feels empty right now and maybe if he can keep himself busy doing mundane things he won't be inclined to think about Fionna and how much everything hurts right now.

He's just opened the fridge to pull out the closest thing in reach, a pomegranate, when there is a light knock on his door. He stills abruptly, but forces himself to relax. Fionna wouldn't have come back so soon, she has more pride than that. In fact, she might not even come back at all. (He wants her to. God, he so wants her to even though he knows that if she does he'll end up begging for forgiveness. Her pride is both a blessing and a curse in this instance.)

After a long internal debate, Marshall Lee decides that he doesn't really want visitors right now, thank you very much. He ignores the knocking as it quickly becomes insistent, sucking the color from his fruit and glaring at the ground until finally the person on the other side is banging against the wood like a battering ram. After a solid minute of this, his patience runs thin and his temper snaps and he snarls, stomping over to the door to roar in frustration at whoever dares to bother him when he's so stressed.

Before he can even reach the door it is flung open roughly, breaking the lock clean through and ripping out a chunk of his doorframe in the process. It slams against the opposite wall, creating a dent in the plaster. Marshall Lee is surprised into inactivity as Gumball, _Bartleby Gumball_, lowers his foot with a scowl and it connects somewhat distantly in his mind that _Bartleby Gumball has just kicked his door down_.

The two men stare at each other, one in surprise and the other in anger, before Cake slinks around Gumball's legs, her fur standing on end. The grin on her face is humorless and all fangs, and Marshall Lee's stomach drops as she chirps, "Hello! I'm going to do horrible, unspeakable things to you!"

And even if he tried, he knows that he won't be able to escape.

**(i am totally and completely prepared for you to hate me. it's okay, i'm expecting it. go ahead and throw all of your anger at me, i can take it. (omgyouguyspleasedon'thatemei'msorry))**


	12. Heart of Life

Bartleby Gumball, Prince of the Candy Kingdom and dessert extraordinaire, is a man of science.

He is a man of science and logic and rationality, and he's never really been able to handle the fickle moods of women very well so most of the time he doesn't even try. Gumball would much rather be tinkering with his machines and experimenting with his chemicals than courting females, much to the disdain of his advisors and disappointment of eligible bachelorettes.

Even Fionna, for all her maturity and intelligence, can be a very illogical person, simply because she is a girl and girls are ruled largely by their emotions. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, it's more that Gumball doesn't really know how to react when he's thrown into a situation with an emotional woman. He is a scientist, _sir_, and feelings of any real caliber tend to freak him out because emotions are not _logical_ even though they're really just chemicals in the brain and they should be easily separated and categorized like every other chemical.

For instance, there is nothing very logical in the way Fionna wakes him up at two in the morning by climbing into his bed.

"Wha—" he grunts, twisting as something heavy sits itself on his chest. "Wha… huh?" Light from the moon shines through the window, muted through the light curtains, but he can still see the fuzzy head of blonde burrowed into his sheets.

"Fionna?" he mumbles in sleepy surprise, his thought process slowed considerably and his eyes just barely open. He lifts a hand and shoves her shoulder lightly as if to determine that she's actually here and he's not just having a really bizarre dream.

Gumball pulls himself up into a sitting position, minute twitches of irritation crawling into his slowly-waking mind. He doesn't mind Fionna, he really doesn't. She is a sweet girl and he cares a great deal for her even if she might be a bit impetuous and silly at times. "Fionna," he says, his voice raspy and thick with sleep as he runs one hand through his hair. He's thankful that he wears pajamas to bed. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she says into his shirt, clinging to him like a barnacle even when he gently tries to push her off. Her voice is small and vulnerable, but right now Gumball is _tired_ and it should not be possible for anyone to have incredibly serious problems this early in the morning.

Gumball sighs and rubs at his itching, angry eyes, swallowing to wet his dry throat (sometimes he snores, okay? He can't help it so _shut up and stop laughing_.) before saying, "It would be a very bad image indeed for you to be caught in my bed." She shakes her head and huddles up closer, and he shakes away some of his irritation as he actually takes stock of the situation. Fionna hasn't ever done this before, not even when she still had that majorly huge crush on him.

(the poor dear thought she was subtle, but he just didn't have the heart to shoot her down.)

A thought comes him and he continues with his voice raised slightly, like he's asking a question. "Especially since I am a prince and you are in a relationship."

Fionna clutches to him tighter and begins to shake, and he sighs and runs a hand across his face as he feels his shirt begin to get damp as she starts crying. His aggravation hasn't disappeared, but now it's not aimed at her. _Oh, Marshall Lee… what have you done…_

"Come on, Fionna," Gumball says gently, wrapping his arms around her shoulder and pulling them both up into a sitting position, though the angle really just drags her into his lap. She trembles violently, unable to contain herself now that the first tears have begun to fall, and her breath hitches and hiccups as he runs a hand through her hair soothingly.

He knows that right now she wants nothing more than to just _cry_, but Gumball is a logical man and he needs to get all of the facts before she dissolves him with her tears. (he's made out of sugar, what do you people want from him.)

"Alright_, Liebe_, can you tell me what happened?" he asks, giving in and accepting that she's not going to let him go. Right now he doesn't really blame her, just pushes her back enough that he can see her red, splotchy face. She ducks away from him with a sniffle, embarrassed, but he just shushes her sound of protest.

Fionna take a deep, rattling breath, then forces out, "W-w-we, um... we broke up."

_I gathered that, yes_, Gumball thinks, but doesn't say anything. This is definitely not the time for sarcasm. He just watches her, trying his best to look concerned and curious to hide his anger. He didn't encourage Marshall Lee into a relationship with Fionna just so that he could turn around a couple months later and break it off.

"He, uh." She swallows and sniffles but soldiers on despite the fact that she can't get in enough breath to really speak. "He said that it w-w-wouldn't…" Sniffle. "…work because he was a vampire. And that he was trying-" Her voice cracks and gets higher as she starts to cry again, but she continues bravely despite the fact that she's speeding up and becoming incomprehensible. "—he was trying to m-makemehappyandIdon-n'tknow_whatamIs-s-supposedtodonow—"_

Fionna wails in misery and pushes her face back into his chest, loud heart-wrenching sobs racking her frame as he tries his best to console her. Gumball doesn't have much experience with hysterical women, but he can tell that this is all he is going to get out of her right now, and even if it were possible he would never make her continue.

He just holds her, tightly, for as long as she needs it, as she lets out all of her pain. That's all that he really can do.

* * *

><p>After a good hour of crying Fionna regresses to that stage where there's no noise, just agonized rasping, and a few dozen minutes after that she finds her voice again and screams herself into a nosebleed and passes out, twitching and shaking against him.<p>

Gumball glances at the clock to see that it's now almost four in the morning. He sighs and accepts that today will just be a stressful day. After assuring himself that she's not going to wake up, he very carefully removes her from his chest and settles her more firmly in the bed. He pulls up the sheets and tucks them around her and stands back to stare at the way her long, blonde hair fans out across his pillow and the rise and fall of her chest as her hands grip and loosen unconsciously.

He would be lying if he said that he'd never thought about this. About her here, like this.

He observes her for a long, long moment, something tightening and _hurting_ in his chest, but turns away when she sniffles in her sleep and her face screws up, like she's plagued by her sadness even in her dreams. Gumball clenches his fists, but then takes a deep breath. He releases it slowly, calmly, and his muscles relax as he leaves his bedroom.

His first objective is to call Cake and inform her of the situation, or ask if anything might have provoked this. Marshall Lee thinks in mysterious, convoluted ways and Gumball wouldn't be surprised if he's just been bottling everything up inside. He tries to remember that Marshall Lee is his friend, too, and that the vampire normally isn't so rash with the emotions of anyone. Or rather, with the emotions of Fionna.

After that, he needs to change out of his pajama shirt, because this one has tears and blood all over it.

And once that's taken care of he'll probably go find some guards because something is _obviously wrong_ if a distraught girl can make it to his bedroom without any opposition. No wonder it's so easy for the Ice Queen to get ahold of him. His security kind of sucks.

Gumball unearths his phone from where it's buried beneath various scientific knickknacks and assorted junk and dials the familiar number to reach Fionna and Cake's tree house. It rings for a long time before the other line picks up, and the scratchy half-asleep voice of Cake sounds tinny in his ear.

"Nnngllo?" the cat grunts, like she's holding the phone upside down, and she might be because Cake is really hard to wake up when she's had a full-night's sleep, much less when she's roused this early in the morning.

"Good morning, Cake," he says on instinct, a lifetime of politeness and gentry beaten into him by his tutors. (Bartleby Gumball was a bit of a wild child after the death of his parents, and it had taken many long awkward dinners and many, many smacks on the wrist for him to relearn to say please and thank you.)

There is a hissing sound on the other end and Gumball can't tell if it's the phone messing up or Cake actually hissing at him. "This'd better be important," she growls tiredly, slurring her words like she's going to fall back asleep at any moment.

Gumball rolls his eyes and says matter-of-factly, "Marshall Lee broke up with Fionna and she bled all over my shirt."

There is a long moment of silence, but then abruptly there is a yowl that makes him jerk away from the phone and cover his ears. Even holding the device at arms-length he can hear Cake screech, "_WHAT?_"

He very cautiously returns the phone to his ear and listens as she rages in the background, apparently having dropped the phone in her fury. "Cake—" he tries, speaking loudly to get her attention. All he can hear is the rattle of metal on the other end. "Cake, let go of the sword. Cake!" She can't hear him so he speaks louder, almost yelling into the phone. "Cake! Calm down! Oh, for the love of… Cake!"

Gumball twists to look over his shoulder when he hears someone clear their throat, and blinks at Peppermint Maid as she watches him with an astonished look on her round, sugary face. The two stare at each other for a long moment before the maid sidesteps away, like he's going to spring at her if she makes any sudden movements. Gumball nearly jumps when Cake's voice sounds back in his ear, much closer than before. Obviously she's picked up the phone again.

"I'MMA KILL HIM," she yowls furiously, and Gumball winces as his ears are assaulted again.

"Cake, calm down. Fionna's fine, I was exaggerating. Let me figure out what exactly happened and then we can decide what to do." He keeps his voice calm and firm, speaking in a way that he knows commands attention. As friendly as they may be to each other, both Fionna and Cake know not to cross him when he slips into the leadership role.

Despite this, the cat still grumbles and hisses into the phone as he explains what he knows. Finally, Gumball ends with, "I know that you're angry and worried, because I am too. But let me talk to her and find out the full story before we decide to cast judgment on anyone."

The other line is quiet before Cake finally says, "And you'll call me once she talks." It's not a question, but Gumball gives an affirmative answer anyway. She hums thoughtfully, then says dangerously, "When I get my paws on that boy, Gumball, I will rip him to shreds."

"We need to make sure that he deserves it first," the prince says, his voice neutral. Though to be honest, he's leaning more towards Cake's way of thinking right now.

Gumball cares for Fionna. He cares for Fionna a great deal.

They exchange short, curt goodbyes (will, Gumball does, Cake just growls and hangs up) and the prince sighs and rubs his eyes with his hand for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and put them into an orderly fashion.

After a minute or so of this, he decides that Fionna will probably be hungry when she wakes up, and so sets off to find someone who can make a tea party happen for him _right now_.

* * *

><p>Gumball is stirring his tea thoughtfully when Fionna finally trudges out of his bedroom and into the small sitting room connected to it. He pauses to observe her subtly; her hair is mussed and her cloths are wrinkled and her ears are red, but not really sleepy, so she's probably been awake for a while now crying.<p>

"_Guten Morgen_," he says, like nothing is wrong. With women he never knows if he should be pretending that everything is normal or not. She meets his eyes briefly before sitting down in the chair facing him. She looks blankly at the assorted foodstuffs that covers the little breakfast table. Normally Fionna would go straight for the pancakes, but her eyes widen when she sees them and her hesitates before shoveling a big helping of eggs onto her plate.

She doesn't eat, just picks at her food with her fork, her eyes tired and listless. Gumball sighs and puts down his cup of tea.

"I know that right now you're in pain," he tells her softly. "But I need to know what happened."

She back up at him slowly before shrugging, and he's thankful that she's not crying anymore.

"That's the thing," she says, her voice thick and a bit raspy. "I don't even know." She stares down at her plate for a long moment before continuing quietly, "I mean… it was just out of nowhere. He'd never really mentioned feeling bad about it before. I kind of just thought… I don't know." She puts an elbow on the table and rests her chin in her palm, her face sad and tired. Gumball struggles not to cringe at the lack of table manners. (She is nothing compared to Marshall Lee though, because he will put his _feet on the furniture_ just because he knows that it's a pet peeve of Gumball's.) "That we'd just kind of… ignore it."

Gumball thinks hard for a moment, opening his mouth and then closing it before picking his words carefully. "While I don't agree with his delivery or the way he handled it… I can understand where he's coming from."

Fionna tenses and draws into herself, her eyes narrowing to glare at the table, and Gumball hurries to continue before she closes up completely. "This is a problem, Fionna, one that you can't just ignore and hope that it'll go away, because it won't." She swallows and looks like she's about to cry again, so he lowers his voice and says gently, "But I think that you can work through it. And I also think that he is an idiot to give up so easily."

Her eyes lift up to his and he smiles, soft and friendly, and reaches out to place his hand on top of hers and squeeze. After a few seconds a hesitant answering smile twitches her face upwards and her hand turns to hold his. He holds her gaze for a minute before turning back to his food, and she's still for a few seconds before taking a bite of hers.

They eat in relative silence, and once she's done Fionna crosses her arms defensively and stares at her lap, looking like a lost puppy. Gumball shakes his head and sighs, then gets up to wrap an arm around her shoulder and pull her along beside him. The early morning sun shines through the windows that line the hallway as his strolls her away from his personal quarters.

"Now what do I do?" she asks glumly, and it's not so much that she wants to know what to do today so much as she doesn't know what to do now that everything is turned upside down.

Gumball thinks about it for a moment, and then says, "Well, let's see. We can take a walk through the gardens, or we could do an experiment, or we could watch movies all day and gorge ourselves on ice cream." He can't contain a smile at Fionna's laughter, or her surprised expression immediately afterwards, like she just realized that she still has the ability to laugh at all.

"Maybe… like, a mixture of number one and number three," she says with a hesitant grin. And if there's still pain behind her eyes, that's okay. It's to be expected, but she's _trying_, and that's good enough for Gumball.

He lets out a chuckle at her answer and gives a half-bow to her. "As you wish, _mein Fräulein_," he says jovially, taking her arm in his like a gentleman should when walking with a girl. Her response is laugh that's a bit stronger and louder than before, and some birds perched on the large open door take flight as the two of them step into the gardens, their wings flapping quietly as they break through the air.

* * *

><p>They spend the day together as friends in a way they haven't been able to in a while, and Gumball is glad that he can make her smile and laugh despite the dark feelings that seem to surround her like a cloud. It wasn't a cure (nothing can ever be so easy, not with Fionna, but he supposes that that's part of her charm), but perhaps it was medicine to help dull the pain.<p>

True to her word, they end up watching movies on a big projector that Gumball fishes out of his junk room; romantic comedies that leave her giggling, animated movies that he's embarrassed to still own, even a horrifically terrible western where the blood is orange and the screams all sound alike and the lead actor can't make the correct facial expressions. (they watch this last one with a look of confused awe and furrowed eyebrows for the entirety of the movie, and once it's over they look at each other and make a silent vow to never speak of it again)

They also eat _a lot_ of ice cream, which is okay because Gumball is the ruler of the Candy Kingdom and ice cream is just another one of those delicious sugary things that he's stockpiled crazy amounts of in the basement freezer.

Finally Fionna crashes at about nine that evening, and Gumball throws a hand over his eyes because he's incredibly tired but his work still isn't done yet. With a sigh, he makes his way back to the phone in the sitting room and dials a familiar number. It only rings once before Cake picks up with a hiss, and he wonders if she's just been sitting by the phone all day waiting for him to call so she can unleash her fury.

"Gumball?" she questions.

"_Jawohl_. Can you meet me over here? I need a ride."

There a moment of silence before Cake growls out, "A ride to where?"

Gumball just laughs and says, "You know exactly where we're going."

"_Finally_," the cat hisses, and hangs up.

He sighs again (god, he's sighing so much lately. He's getting too old for this.) and goes to sit down at his table and wait for Cake to get here, idly pouring some more tea into his cup and drinking it. Tea, especially very sweet tea, is incredibly calming to him. And god knows that he needs something to calm his nerves.

He actually goes through three more cups before Cake climbs through his open window, her soft white fur puffy in agitation. Her whiskers stick straight out and her ears are pinned against her head as she hisses, "When are we leaving? I'mma wreck him. I'mma bite his face off and then play jump rope with his spine." After noting that her claws are extended Gumball approaches her carefully.

"We're just going to talk," he informs her firmly, his arms crossed. She spits in anger but doesn't argue, though he has no doubts that she has her own plans for Marshall Lee once they arrive at his house.

She climbs back out through the window and disappears for a moment before suddenly the view is taken over by a long expanse of furry back. Gumball grips the windowsill before carefully maneuvering himself up her body to sit between her massive shoulder blades. Part of him will never really get used to seeing a cat the size of a castle, but then again he usually rides on the back of a stretchy black horse-something, so he really can't judge too harshly.

Cake crouches, her long legs bending beneath her, before springing, aiming her jumps in a way that lets her clear the expanse of the city in only three leaps. Once they don't have to worry about stepping on any houses, the trip to Marshall Lee's cave is relatively short and uninteresting as Gumball goes through a script in his mind of what all he can say and Cake gets herself more and more worked up, her hair puffing out to make her look twice her size.

When they finally reach the cave, Gumball has to fix his hair and clothes because of how fast Cake had started running, and he yelps as she suddenly and rapidly shrinks in size so that his feet just barely brush the ground. The abrupt drop gives him a crazy sense of vertigo and his stomach feels like it's up in his throat. The cat is eager to go rip Marshall Lee a new one, but Gumball has to stop and try to control his gag reflex, bending over so that he can breathe.

"Don't go that again," he gasps, but Cake just rolls her eyes and huffs. The house still looks the same, with its fake grass and little picket fence and basketball hoop. He'd added a plastic flamingo to his lawn since the last time Gumball had been there. It was a nice touch.

Cake is nearly foaming at the mouth as they head around back to the door on the dock, which is the only door that anyone actually uses in Marshall Lee's house. Gumball follows her quickly and grabs onto the scruff at the back of her neck when she goes to throw the door open. "We're just _talking_," he emphasizes, meeting her glare with one of his own. "Like _civilized_ people."

She scoffs at him, but doesn't try for the door again, and Gumball stares her down as he lifts a hand up and knocks lightly on the wood. He then puts his hands behind his back and rocks on the balls of his feet, staring up at the ceiling and waiting patiently. Cake taps her foot behind him, her arms crossed and teeth bared in a snarl.

A minute passes. Gumball coughs awkwardly and suggests, "Perhaps he's in the bathroom or something."

He knocks on the door again, a bit harder this time. Another minute goes by with no reply and Gumball is started to feel irritated again despite his best efforts to remain calm. He begins to think that Marshall Lee might be _hiding_ from them, and that thought just fuels his anger. What is he planning to do, just leave Fionna and ignore the result?

He bangs on the door, loud, six times and then steps back. After a few moments of silence he feels his fists begin to clench. Did he think he'd just get away with breaking her heart and not having to face the consequences of it? Did he think that he was above that, that she didn't matter?

Gumball beats on the door with the side of his fist, feeling the wood vibrate beneath the hits. He doesn't let up this time, even when two minutes pass and his whole arm starts to go numb. He can _feel_ Cake getting more and more angry with each pound of his fist, and he realizes that he himself is pretty angry, too.

He's angry and he's tired and he's _hurt_ because he trusted Marshall Lee to take care of Fionna, and it's like all that trust that Marshall Lee had in the both of them was just thrown out the window and now he doesn't want to deal with them. And why should he? They're just mortals, and he's a _king_. Gumball feels his blood begin to boil, feels a dormant fury stir inside his gut, egged on by the way Cake is now growling and hissing.

He's just so _tired_.

And then he snaps.

"_Ach, scheiß drauf!_"

Gumball puts all his weight onto one foot, lifts the other, and then lashes out and kicks the door in.

There's a crunch as the lock is ripped from the wood, taking a chunk of the doorframe with it, and it slams inwards to hit the wall on the other side. Gumball doesn't really register this, because he's too busy being _angry_ and all he can see is Marshall Lee standing three feet away with a dumb look on his face.

Gumball lowers his foot (holy fucking _fuck_, he does not have the muscle to kick down doors, it feels like his entire leg is on fire _shitshitshit_ I think I broke something) and steps forwards, his face twisted into a scowl. Marshall Lee steps a step back, his red eyes wide with surprise. Good. He'd better be afraid.

The script of things to say is thrown out of his mind as he begins to think that this _vampire_ who he'd called _friend_ just broke the heart of the one person in the world that he really cared about. His breath comes in unsteady pants, partially because of adrenaline and partially because of anger. He feels the light weight of Cake stepping around him but it doesn't really register because all he can think is that he was _betrayed_.

"Hello!" Cake says dangerously, her tail lashing from side to side. Gumball doesn't really pay attention. "I'm going to do horrible, unspeakable things to you!"

Marshall Lee swallows and blinks, and then runs away.

Or at least, he tries to. With an enraged shout, Gumball leaps at him, tackling him to the ground. The two men wrestle violently, with Marshall Lee trying to claw his way free and Gumball doing his best to keep a firm grip and not let the vampire wiggle away. There is an inhuman screech as Cake joins the fray, adding fangs and vicious swipes into the mix.

The ordeal can't have lasted but a minute, but while in the middle of it it feels like it lasts a lifetime. A foot connects with his gut and he lands a punch on someone's back, and it's a terrible bloody brawl that doesn't end until he manages to grab ahold of Marshall Lee's hair, lift up his head, and then slam it into the floor.

The vampire lets out a shout of surprise before falling still, and Gumball throws himself to the side, panting and gasping in exertion. He's made of _candy_, for god's sake. He never wrestles. Cake is still attached to Marshall Lee's back, her claws stuck into his clothes and probably down into his skin, but Gumball peels her off of him with little protest. (she's probably dazed, Gumball thinks he might have accidentally crushed her at some point)

He bends his knees and leans back on his hands, breath coming in short puffs, and there's an angry pain in his chest every time he inhales. He glances over at the other man.

Marshall Lee very carefully lifts himself up, his hair falling into his pale face. Once he straightens, Gumball's eyes widen; there is an ugly bruise already forming across the bridge of Marshall Lee's nose, and, he notices with a slightly hysterical giggle, one of the twin fangs jutting from his mouth is missing. Marshall Lee lifts a hand to poke at his nose gingerly and winces as he assesses the damage.

"I thinb you brobe my nobe, dube," the vampire whines nasally, pushing into the skin with another wince. His face changes when he talks, and he sits with a confused expression on his face before sticking out his tongue and poking the space where his fang used to be. A look of horror passes over him and he stares at Gumball in incomprehension.

"You knobbeb oub my toof!" He lifts a finger and pokes it into the little hole that the thin tooth used to be. He twists around to grope on the floor and pulls out a small object from the carpet. He lifts it against the light and his wine-red eyes widen when it's the wicked, perfect curve of a fang. "Dube! You knobbed oub my toof!"

"Hold on," Gumball pants, "let me look." He leans forwards and carefully takes Marshall Lee's jaw in his hand, twisting it so that he can get a closer look at his nose. "Ahh, yes… I think that it is broken. I need to set it before it starts swelling, otherwise it'll hurt even worse."

Cake pulls herself from her daze and hefts herself up, turning to stare at them in surprise. "Wait. That's it? You beat each other up and then you're friends again?"

Gumball and Marshall Lee share a look, and then Gumball shrugs and hums in agreement as Marshall Lee says, "Yeah, dab's aboud righb."

"We're men, my dear," Gumball explains matter-of-factly as he scootches closer to Marshall Lee and turns his face this way and that, trying to determine how best to fix the damage. "It's just how we get our feelings out." He pulls back to look Marshall Lee in the eyes coolly and continues, "But don't think that this is going to save you from a stern talking-to, sir."

Marshall Lee won't meet his eyes, but from what little he can see of the vampire's face (the part that isn't covered in bruises and blood that has to be Gumball's own (in fact, now that he thinks about it, he can feel a pretty nasty cut leaking onto his forehead)) it is sufficiently depressed. Gumball still isn't at all pleased with him, but he tries to remember that this must be hurting Marshall Lee as well as Fionna.

"Alright, I think I can fix it," Gumball says, pushing Marshall Lee down into a kneeling position and moving to stand behind him. He presses his fingers to either side of Marshall Lee's nose and says, "Now don't jerk back, okay?" The vampire snorts in reply, but the sound is weird, like air being blown through a bent pipe. "I'm going to go on three. One… two…" Before he can get to three, Gumball pushes inwards with his fingers, and he can feel the cartilage shift against the force. There is a horrific crunching sound that makes even Cake wince, and Marshall Lee hisses in pained surprise.

Gumball steps back in front of Marshall Lee and bats the vampire's hand away as it tries to come up and poke at the wound. "Alright," the prince says thoughtfully, turning his head around once more. "One more time and it should be good."

"I habe you," Marshall Lee says sullenly, but he doesn't sound as nasally this time. He reaches one hand to touch the empty socket in his gums where his fang used to be. "I habe you so muchb."

The crunch isn't as bad this time, and when Gumball inspects his handiwork he's pleased. "It'll swell a bit, but it should heal straight. Now then. Do you have any Band-Aids? I think that Cake got me pretty good in the forehead."

Marshall Lee points vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, but doesn't say anything other than, "I can't beliebe you knocked outb my fangb."

Gumball pushes himself up and stumbles out of the living room and down a hall to the bathroom, which he's only ever been in once or twice. He doesn't even know if vampires _need_ bathrooms. (this is a horrible train of thought, and he will not follow it, no sir he will not _crap he just thought of Marshall Lee taking a piss goddammit._) There's only one cabinet in the room, and it's mostly bare, with only a few towels and washcloths folded neatly in one corner. On one of the shelves there is a small box, which Gumball opens to find multicolored band-aides.

He grabs a pink one that will closest match his skin tone, wets one of the washcloths in the sink, and uses the mirror to carefully wipe the blood off of his brow. It's not very deep, but head wounds always bleed like crazy, so he carefully applies the band-aide and double-checks his handiwork before returning to the room with Marshall Lee and Cake. There's a terrible pain when he puts weight on his left leg, the one he'd kicked the door with, and he realizes that maybe his panicked thoughts of breaking something weren't too far off.

That whole scuffle on the floor probably didn't help matters either, actually.

He limps over to the couch and sits on it, yelps, and then immediately slides to the floor. Normally Bartleby Gumball wouldn't be caught dead slumped on the worn pink carpet when there's perfectly good furniture to sit on, but that couch is _satan_ in fabric form and he would not sit on it if you paid him.

He turns to look at Marshall Lee and sees that the Vampire King has a very sad look on his face, and Cake has a very serious look on hers, and he wonders what conversation they'd had while he was patching himself up. The cat seems satisfied with whatever tongue-lashing she'd given him, and she sets herself to grooming down her fur, wincing when she tries to bend too far down. (Gumball has a vague recollection of elbowing something soft and squishy during the fight and shuffles guiltily.)

Marshall Lee's eyes slowly lift to meet his, and it feels like this should be a serious moment but Gumball can't help but think that the vampire's face looks so _lopsided_ with his bruised, swollen, slightly crooked at the end nose and the missing tooth.

"I messed up, didn't I?" Marshall Lee asks quietly, most of the thick nasal sound gone. Vampires must heal pretty fast. It's kind of funny, though, that without the familiar weight of his right fang he seems to talk with a bit of a lisp.

"Yes. Yes you did," Gumball says at the same time that Cake snaps, "Damn straight."

Marshall Lee looks back down at his hands, which are balled up in his lap. "What do I do? I mean… it was a valid reason."

Gumball pauses and then says, "I think…" He hesitates, then continues thoughtfully. "I think that you were right to worry. But… I also think that you were a fool to give up. You care for her, right?"

"Of course," Marshall Lee replies, his voice thick. Gumball really, really hopes that he isn't going to start crying. If there's one thing he hates more than emotional women, it's emotional men. "But just because I love her doesn't change the fact that this is going to end horribly."

Gumball smiles at him and puts his chin in his hands. "Think about what you just said, and then tell me that you wouldn't be able to work it out anyway."

The vampire glares and opens his mouth, but falls silent, his eyes widening in surprise. He turns back to stare at his hands with a look of confusion. "I…"

"Love her. And that's why, no matter what happens, no matter how it ends, it will be worth it." Gumball can't help it when his smile grows a bit bigger at the lost expression on Marshall Lee's face. He shares a look with Cake, who can't seem to decide if she's still angry or pleased.

"Now then," Gumball says, hefting himself back up onto his feet. "If you have some milk, we might be able to save that tooth of yours."

Marshall Lee sends him a deadpan stare and Gumball mumbles, "Oh, right. Vampire. No milk. Any ice, then?"

The older boy waves him towards the kitchen, a troubled look on his face. Gumball fetches some ice and pours it into a cup, then limps back over to Marshall Lee and takes the fang from his outstretched hand.

"We should hurry back to the Kingdom," he says, nodding at Cake, who rolls her eyes and walks out the door. He limps after the cat towards the exit, and looks over his shoulder to call to Marshall Lee, "Come along, _mein Freund_."

"You have a limp," Marshall Lee tells him, one eyebrow raised like it's a question.

"Yes, how astute of you. Let's go, I think I might have broken something."

The two walk to the entrance of the cave, where the moon is still high in the sky and Cake is waiting for them.

"…is Fionna in the Candy Kingdom?" Marshall Lee asks, his voice quiet.

Gumball glances over to him, and a sudden realization hits him. For all that Marshall Lee is immortal and all-powerful, he has absolutely no idea what to do right now. He's looking to Gumball for guidance. When did the roles reverse; when did the King rely on the Prince? When did the old seek knowledge from the young?

"Yes," Gumball says gently. "She is. And she's quite distraught."

Marshall Lee lifts off into the air to float alongside them as Gumball climbs up onto Cake's back and she grows larger.

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" the vampire asks, and if Gumball didn't know him any better he would say that his friend sounded _vulnerable_.

Gumball opens his mouth to reply, but both of them are surprised when it's Cake who says dryly, "Boy, that girl would learn to walk on her hands for you if you asked her to."

Marshall Lee grows quiet, and Gumball sends him a hesitant smile.

"I think," he tells the vampire, "that she just needs to realize this herself."

The rest of the trip is silent as the moon lights their path back home, and the Candy Prince muses at the roles that they all have played. Gumball was judge, Cake was jury, and Fionna… well, all that's left now is executioner.

**(have been informed that gumball's official name is bubba. there are absolutely no words for how happy this makes me. me gusta, me gusta forever.**

**also, the german translations are from my excellent beta reader, who puts up with my bitching and whining and laziness and general lameosity. she's pretty bombtastic. but since she's not a native speaker, she wanted me to ask that if there are any mistakes, would you be so inclined as to point them out so she can learn more.**

**(also also, if i actually named chapters after songs that i listened to while writing them, this chapter would be titled "that dumb nyan cat song".))**


	13. The Crow and the Butterfly

Marshall Lee has had some pretty close brushes with death.

(Literally. He'd hung out with the old skeleton lady a couple times in his earlier years. Death was a pretty chill gal and a surprisingly good guitarist, considering she didn't have much in the way of finger muscle.)

He'd officially died at age eighteen, broken and betrayed and bleeding out all over the floor, and in a rush of bright light and liquid fire in his veins he had woken to a state of unliving. Actually, now that he thinks about it, that wasn't so much a brush with death as it was tripping down a flight of long, twisty stairs and then crashing into it and rolling for a few feet tangled up in it.

But in all honesty, all dying had really done was give him a chance to live.

He'd gone to the fire kingdom and screwed around with some monster goldfish and killed a Queen and became a King and ruled a populace and he'd somehow done all of that without getting killed again, even though he'd come a bit close several times.

None of those brushes with death, though, have ever left Marshall Lee feeling as vulnerable and afraid as the thought of facing Fionna.

It is a terrible knowledge, to know that he has nearly destroyed the one person left alive in this world that he really cares about, and it is a testament to how incredibly wrong he was that he'd immediately felt horrible about it.

He's still concerned, yeah. Part of him always will be, probably would have been even if they'd just stayed friends. But… he'd gone for so long on his own. He'd spent so long wandering around and trying to find a purpose.

And he's really starting to think that he's found one. A real, true, honest purpose; to love and be loved by a foolish, naïve, emotional, sensitive,_ perfect_ little human girl. And it's a horrible, agonizing pain to think that he'd ripped that away from himself.

He'd tried to fix things, and ended up breaking something that could have had the strength to stand on its own if he'd just left well enough alone. But he just had to keep poking at the foundations and weakening the supports with his own doubts and insecurities.

Fionna was right, in the end. She had been the one to try and keep them together, and he was so caught up in doing the right thing that he didn't realize how far he was pushing them apart. And now, Marshall Lee doesn't know if he can fix this. Not after how badly he's screwed it up. He doesn't know if she'll even let him fix this, or if it even should be fixed.

But he wants to try. He wants to try so badly.

Because, you know…

He loves her. And stuff.

And maybe if he tries hard enough, if he fights long enough, if he pushes back enough, then just being in love with her will be enough.

* * *

><p>Of course, he doesn't see Fionna first thing when they reach the Candy Kingdom. To be honest, he probably couldn't pick a singular face out of the crowd if he tried; within ten minutes of them entering the castle and calling for the royal physician the rumors have already spread that the High and Esteemed Lord-Prince Bartleby Gumball went to go fight for the honor of the Kind and Heroic Fionna the Adventuress, and ended up getting in a brawl with That Vampire Guy, and everyone wants to see it.<p>

So she's probably there among all of the little sugary citizens and he just can't see her, which is honestly a good thing because right now he would probably die _again_ if he could see the look on her face when she realizes that he has a broken nose. That _Gumball_ gave him a broken nose.

The entire castle staff is in a pathetic attempt at an uproar. Most of the people are too sleepy to actually know what's going on, and the rest of them are too busy trying to see the extent of the damages from a distance to really cause a panic. It's less of a riot and more of a vaguely interested commotion of people how want to swap stories on why Gumball is limping and why Marshall Lee has a massive bruise painted across his face.

Once three large gumdrop-guards arrive to lead them through the winding corridors, Cake disappears into the furor and is gone from sight, probably to find Fionna and clue her in on everything that happened. The guards approach Marshall Lee with chains, probably to handcuff him or hogtie him or something because candy people are _nuts_ (ha ha he made a pun. He reminds himself to remember that for when he and Fionna are on better speaking terms.), but they stop short when he bares his…. fang.

Even with a broken nose and a missing tooth Marshall Lee still looks intimidating, and they wisely back off.

It takes them a couple minutes to reach the room that the doctor is in, and at this point Gumball is wincing with each step that he takes and Marshall Lee can feel the bridge of his nose throbbing painfully. The little doctor's office is small and dainty, like pretty much everything else in the castle, and the two boys both collapse gratefully into the plushy waiting chairs. The guards situate themselves around the room and all turn their glares at Marshall Lee, who crosses his arms defensively and curls up further into the chair.

There is a long moment of silence while they wait for something to happen, and then Gumball says, "My head hurts."

Marshall Lee tries to snort, but the action causes pain to explode in his face so it just sort of sounds like someone stepped on a whoopee cushion. "My nose hurts."

Gumball stretches out his hurt leg and points to it, saying pitifully, "My leg hurts."

Rolling his eyes, Marshall Lee intones, "My tooth hurts. Oh, wait. No it doesn't. Because it's _not there anymore_."

"Baby," Gumball snaps with no real malice, and Marshall Lee is about to retort when the door opens and a giant cone of ice cream in a lab coat walks in. She (he? The candy people are so weird with their genders.) looks between the two of them a couple times and then shrugs, like she's seen weirder things than two monarchs, one made of bubblegum and the other undead, fighting like children over who got the biggest owwie.

"Good morning, sirs," she says, moving first to check on Gumball. She tuts at him and says, "What have you done now, you silly boy?"

"Nothing, Dr. Ice Cream," Gumball says guiltily, like a kid who'd been caught shooting spitballs at another student behind the teacher's back. Once her back is to him, Marshall Lee mouths to the candy prince, '_Doctor Ice Cream?_' Gumball shrugs helplessly.

"Obviously you've done something," the chilled confection fusses, unbending his knee once more and pulling up his pants leg to poke and prod at his pink skin. Right where his shin and his knee meet is an angry lump, and when she touches it he yelps and jerks away. "Looks like you broke it. What did you do?"

Gumball fidgets in his chair, and Marshall Lee remembers abruptly that the Candy King and Queen died when the Prince was very young, and that he was mostly raised by the staff of the castle. Dr. Ice Cream was probably the closest thing to a mother he had growing up, and it shows on his abashed face and her disappointed look.

"I… might have kicked a door in," the Prince says in a small voice that Marshall Lee has never heard before. He's used it quite a few times when talking to his own mother, though, so he knows that feel and decides not to make fun of his bro for it.

Dr. Ice Cream nods her head and hums, saying in the droll manner of someone who has no inclination to believe any shenanigans, "Yes, of course you did, dear." She gets up and putters around the room to find an ace bandage to wrap his leg with, her oblong body bending awkwardly to pull the wraps out of a lower cabinet. Marshall Lee wonders idly how she leans over without dripping any of her actual ice cream.

She kneels down and gently begins to wrap up Gumball's leg, saying, "Now, if you stay away from your red meats and leafy green vegetables and focus more on your donuts and cupcakes, this should heal back perfectly fine within a week. But I don't want to see you even _look_ at a salad until then, got it, mister?" Gumball nods meekly, and when she's done Dr. Ice Cream pulls a lollypop out of an inner pocket of her white coat and hands it to him. He opens it and pops it into his mouth cheerfully, kicking his good leg back and forth in the chair.

Then she turns to look at Marshall Lee with her arms crossed and he tenses instinctively, because she's wearing that look on her face that his mom wears when she's going to lecture him on _how you're ruining your after-life and when are you just going to grow up, Marshall Lee? Just because you're going to be young forever doesn't mean that I don't want grandchildren you should get married to that pretty gargoyle girl, she has a nice facial structure and when are you going to settle down and actually be a King instead of screwing around Ooo and dressing like a hobo?_

(Marshall Lee doesn't have mommy issues. He doesn't, he doesn't, he doesn't.)

"And obviously you have a broken nose. How did that happen?" Dr. Ice Cream raises an eyebrow. "You run into a doorknob?"

"Something like that," Marshall Lee lisps, trying to compensate for the missing weight of his tooth and ending up sounding like he's got a cotton ball tucked under his tongue.

Dr. Ice Cream takes a hold of his jaw in one hand and turns it, and his skin crawls like it usually does when someone he doesn't know touches him, but her hands are surprisingly warm for an ice cream cone, and soft too. She clucks her tongue and says, "Well, we can't do much for the nose, unfortunately. The bruising and swelling will go away on its own. And whoever corrected it did a pretty good job." (Gumball puffs himself up proudly, but the regal expression on his face is slightly ruined by the stick of paper poking out of the side of his mouth.) "It should heal straight."

Without warning she squeezes the skin between his jaw bones inwards on either side, pinching the inside of his cheeks between the sharp fang-like molars in the back, and he instinctively opens his mouth with a pained, "Ah, ah!" sound. His arms flail helplessly as she turns his face this way and that, inspecting the empty, hollow socket in his gums where the fang used to be.

"This tooth business, though… I have to admit, I'm not really sure how this is going to work on a vampire." She pulls away thoughtfully, staring at him with her eyes narrowed but not really seeing him. "You do still have the tooth, right?"

Gumball leans down and picks up the cup of partially-melted ice from where he'd set it down on the floor and hands it to her. Dr. Ice Cream carefully plucks the fang from the chilled cup and holds it up against the light between two fingers, one at the wider base where it connects to the nerves and one just barely applying pressure on the tip. The very end still manages to puncture her skin slightly, but Marshall Lee is unaffected because everyone knows that candy people bleed sugar, not actual blood.

"Nice and sharp," Dr. Ice Cream comments, moving the fang to her other hand to look at the small needle-like incision in her finger. Marshall Lee shrugs, half-embarrassed and half-pleased. He takes great pride in his pearly whites. She returns her attention on his mouth and he opens back up obligingly, willing to withstand the pokes and prods if it means having both his fangs again.

"Hmmm," the doctor hums thoughtfully before snapping her fingers. "I got it! We'll just shove it up there. I mean, it's not like it's going to bleed or anything. And the nerves are kind of dead anyway."

Marshall Lee shuts his mouth with a snap and glares at her, affronted. "Uh, that doesn't mean I can't still feel pain," he objects, eyes narrowing at her.

"But," she continues, tossing his fang from hand to hand as she speaks, ignoring (or perhaps not even noticing) the way he flinches in worry each time it arcs through the air, "since you're a vampire and you heal naturally, if we wedged it in there it would just grow back into its normal spot, right?"

"_Theoretically_," he stresses nervously, not liking the gleam in her eyes or the way Gumball is stifling a chuckle behind his hand. "But I still don't like the idea of just slapping it in and calling it a day."

"Why not?" Dr. Ice Cream sniffs. "You men seem fond of doing that in every other department."

Gumball chokes on his laughter and Marshall Lee is shocked into silence, staring at her with a dumbfounded look on his face. He snaps himself out of it with a shake of his head.

"Look, lady," he growls, though he's not very intimidating with a giant bruise splashed over his face. "I'm not going to let you just shove that back into my mouth." Gumball lets out a loud guffaw and Dr. Ice Cream's mouth twitches up in amusement. If Marshall Lee could blush, he'd be as red as the strawberries he eats. "That's not what I meant!"

"Come on, Marshall Lee," Gumball chortles, "just let her do it."

"No. Absolutely not. There has to be another, less painful way."

"Marshall Lee, just—"

"No!"

The resulting scuffle between Marshall Lee, the doctor, and Gumball is cut short when the door opens a crack and a blonde head pokes into the room, equal parts hesitant and worried. Marshall Lee freezes as his eyes meet Fionna's, and his own red ones widen. When their gazes meet she seems to shrink into herself, partially hiding behind the door. She looks down abruptly to stare at the ground, and her hand, which is wrapped around the doorknob, clenches visibly.

Marshall Lee feels a sensation not unlike a railroad spike being shoved in his chest, which suddenly feels unhealthily tight as he says quietly, "Fionna, I…"

Her eyes lift to his once more, and Marshall Lee opens his mouth again to speak when Dr. Ice Cream leaps on the opportunity, dragging his face towards her, prying his jaws open fully with one hand, and then shoving his fang back into its empty socket within seconds.

A blinding pain flashes down his body as his healing abilities cause the roots in the gum to reattach, knitting nerves and tissue back together and shooting agony into his mouth. He can't contain the screech of pained surprise or the way his entire body rears back, almost toppling out of the chair in shock.

Dr. Ice Cream, Gumball, and Fionna all watch in awed horror as Marshall Lee hisses and spits like a cat, crouching down into the chair and glaring as his tongue pokes around his mouth, making him look like an incredibly angry chipmunk with very sharp teeth.

Once he's assured that all of his chompers are still there, his eyes glow a dangerous red at the guards and the doctor, and he snarls, "_Get out_." All of the gumdrop guards are quick to obey, but Dr. Ice Cream hesitates for a moment. She finally exits when Gumball nods his head slightly in permission, and she rests a hand briefly on Fionna's shoulder before the door shuts behind her. The human girl edges further into the room, but her hands are twisted together and she won't look at either of them.

There is a long awkward silence as Fionna refuses to speak, Marshall Lee doesn't know what to say, and Gumball just wants someone to break the tension. Finally he takes it upon himself and huffs, "You two are being ridiculous."

Two pairs of eyes snap up to look at him, but he doesn't break his look of annoyance at their combined indignation. "Well you are!" he exclaims, throwing up his arms.

Fionna sputters defensively, seeming to forget about Marshall Lee's presence in the face of Gumball's agitation. "I'm being ridiculous? _I'm_ being ridiculous? You do realize that I just woke up like half an hour ago because Peppermint Maid came in and told me that everyone was saying you'd _killed_ each other?"

Marshall Lee slumps down to make himself less noticeable as the two take their frustrations out on each other.

"It's like neither of you can function without me for even a day without breaking something or _yourselves_!" Fionna accuses, and suddenly her attention is turned to Marshall Lee, who swallows nervously. "And _you_! Ignoring the fact that you _broke my heart_, how dare you attack Gumball and hurt his leg?"

Marshall Lee puffs up in defense, eyes narrowing at her. "He kicked down _my_ door!" he snaps, throwing up his arms as well. Fionna lets out a shrill exhale that sounds almost like a shriek and looks like she's barely resisting stomping her foot.

"Enough!"

The both turn to look at Gumball, who is now standing despite his pained leg. He's breathing heavily, but collects himself after a moment and straightens his shirt calmly.

"Obviously," he says coolly, "you two have something to work out. Which is _good_. You need to work this out." His anger drains away quickly, and his voice is gentler when he says, "I believe in both of you. And I sincerely hope that you make an effort on this." He gives Marshall Lee a long, significant look. "Because I think that you're good for each other."

Marshall Lee stares at his hands in his lap and Fionna glares at the ground, her eyes looking a bit red now. Gumball hesitates, then limps towards the door, his wrapped leg stiff and awkward. Just before leaving he says over his shoulder, "Remember what we talked about, Marshall Lee."

And then the Candy Prince is gone.

* * *

><p>For a long time, neither of them says anything. After a few minutes of this awkward silence, Fionna finally sighs and walks over to sink into the chair that Gumball had just left vacant. Marshall Lee looks at her briefly out of the corner of his eyes but quickly returns his gaze to his hands.<p>

Fionna swallows, then says quietly, "So… what happened? I mean…" She fidgets in the chair uncomfortably, and Marshall Lee wonders how they'd fallen so far. Not even three days ago she would have been talking up a storm, telling him anything, everything, nothing, and he wouldn't have cared because it would be an opportunity to just hear her voice. "Cake told me the basics, but… I'd rather hear it from you."

Marshall Lee clears his throat. "Well," he starts, and then pauses because he doesn't know how to explain it, really. "We… got in a fight."

Fionna blinks, then turns to stare at him. He shuffles under her unimpressed expression. "_Really._"

He crosses his arms defensively and turns away, glaring at the opposite wall. After a couple seconds he hears Fionna sigh and he glances over at her when she says, "Marshall Lee… I get that you don't want a relationship with me." Her voice breaks and she has to pause for a second to wrestle back control of her throat. It sounds like every word she says causes her physical pain. "I really do. I don't like it… but I get it."

She turns to look at him fully, and there is a deep, unfathomable hurt in her eyes that makes his chest tighten painfully. "But, I mean… why can't we still be friends?" She wraps her arms around her chest, like she can shield herself with she curls up tight enough. Her voice is small and wavering when she says, "I can't just cut you out of my life, Marshall Lee…"

He can almost see the stress that presses down on her as she whispers, "I just care about you too much."

Marshall Lee opens his mouth to say something and then closes it. He wants to fix this. He wants them to pretend that the last two days never happened. He wants to go back to her smiles and cheer and love. He just doesn't know _how_.

A minute passes before Fionna seems to draw on some inner strength, spurred on by the fact that he didn't reject her offer of friendship, and leans towards him once more. "Let me see your nose," she commands gently. After a moment of hesitation he faces her again and part of his ego breaks off and flutters away at the wince she lets out when she sees the bruise up close. "He got you good, didn't he?" she asks, not really realizing that she's saying it as she carefully takes his jaw in her hands and inspects his face.

Marshall Lee is almost sick of people twisting his head around like a ragdoll tonight, because it's just happened way too many times, but Fionna's hand is gentle against his pale skin and he just wants to sink into her warmth and curl up there and stay forever. He can't help but press his cheek a bit more into the palm of her hand and her breath hitches slightly as she realizes that she's basically cradling his face.

Fionna snatches her hand away quickly and drops it into her lap and stares down at it like it's not really connected to her at all. Marshall Lee can't shake the feeling that something vital is missing when she stops touching him, and he glares at the ground and thinks long and hard.

He is a King. He has fought for his position, for his respect, for a long, long time, and he has never backed down from a challenge when one presents itself. He is not some weak _mortal_ who spends their days staring out the window and pining for something more. He is powerful and ancient and when he finds something that he wants, he does everything in his power to _take_ it.

And right now he just wants her back.

And if he has to sacrifice his pride to do that, he decides calmly, then so be it.

"Fionna," he starts, and then stops. He knows he has to say something, he's just not sure what. Her eyes lift to look at him, curious and hopeful and apprehensive all at the same time. Finally he sighs and looks at her, holding her gaze, and says, "I'm sorry."

Fionna swallows and says nothing, so he continues quickly.

"I was afraid. I still am afraid. But before it was because I didn't think that I'd be able to live without you, and now it's because I _know_ that I can't."

She inhales sharply and stares at him, lips trembling slightly, and it's weird because before it was like he couldn't say anything and now it's like he can't _shut up_.

"And I wasn't thinking, or maybe I was thinking too much, so I made a decision that I thought was right but it wasn't. It was _wrong_." He sounds like he's pleading, and maybe he is. Pleading for her to understand. Pleading for her to realize that he'd done it because he'd cared and now he was trying to take it back because he cared _more_. "It was wrong because I didn't have enough faith in us and I should have and I was so incredibly stupid and I just…"

He takes a deep breath and tries not to look at her shocked face.

"I'm just _sorry_," he finishes on a sigh, and closes his eyes.

Fionna doesn't say anything for a long time, doesn't move, doesn't stop staring at him in surprise. Marshall Lee swallows and stares down into his lap, and can't help the feeling of awkward irony as he realizes that now _he's_ the one waiting for rejection.

Finally Fionna blinks and says hesitantly, "So, let me get this straight… you're trying to take back our break up?"

Marshall Lee slowly lifts his eyes to meet hers and then shrugs one shoulder awkwardly and mumbles, "…I guess, yeah." When she puts it like that it just seems kind of lame.

She stares at him, then looks away, then looks back like she's not really sure what to make of this new development. Marshall Lee swallows and decides that since his ego has already been tossed into the dirt, what are a few more kicks in the ribs while it's down?

"_Please_," he murmurs softly, watching his own hands twitch and fidget on his thighs. "I was an idiot. And I don't want me being an idiot to ruin _everything_."

He flinches when her hands find their way to his face again, and won't meet her eyes even when she turns his head to face her. Finally his eyes lift to hers, and she has a very hesitant smile on her face and she leans in and presses her lips to his.

It's not a kiss of passion or heat. It's a lingering, fragile touch, like a question without words, easily broken and almost _expecting_ to break. She's feather light against him and they're still not okay yet but they _can_ be, she will let them be if he will, if they're both willing to try.

And then the top of her head bumps his nose.

He jerks back with a yelp and reaches one hand up to cup his face. He winces and lets out a whine, and Fionna stares at him in surprise before throwing back her head and laughing hysterically, like she's not really sure if she should laugh or cry. And then he throws his arms around her and holds her tight, and it's awkward because they're sitting in two different chairs and the wooden armrest of his own is digging into his ribs and it's uncomfortable and also probably the most intimate thing that he's ever done.

And they've got a long, bumpy road ahead of them, but Marshall Lee has faith that they can do it _together_, and maybe faith alone can make it work.

**(put a bit more humor into this than i was expecting, but i'm not complaining. things aren't immediately going to be skippy rainbows and puppies again, but we've already hit rock bottom and the only way to go now is up. :)**

**EDIT: saw the first half of the upcoming AT episode. brb changing my OTP to bubblegum/marceline.)**


	14. Hey Jude

For all that Marshall Lee wants to go back to the way things were, the truth of the matter is that trust is a difficult thing to fix once it's been broken.

Being with Fionna now is kind of like a complicated game of cat and mouse, except that they're both mice who think that the other is a cat. He can't get too close to her without thinking that he's pushing her, but he also can't stray too far and worry her that he's going to leave again. It's an awkward dance between the two of them where they can't decide if they need space or if they want to cling as tightly as possible, so they just weave around each other at a safe distance, a whirl of lingering glances and hesitant smiles and fragile, tentative trust.

It's difficult, to regress back to such a tense state between them where they're not sure what's acceptable and what's not. It feels like his heart is familiar with the closeness, but his head doesn't want him to let his guard down. He can only imagine what Fionna is going through with all of this uncertainty and carefulness between them.

In a way, it's not unlike tip-toeing around a minefield.

Thankfully, they've both managed to avoid any truly painful moments, and Marshall Lee counts his blessings as he gets them because lately it seems like they haven't been showing up as much as they should have. But at the same time, he knows that if they can work through this and come out relatively undamaged, they will be the better for it in the end.

Maybe, in order to unlock their true potential, they had to break each other down so they could build themselves up stronger.

Or maybe Marshall Lee just overthinks things way too often and Fionna is just emotionally stunted and it's not really as complicated as he likes to think it is. Usually the simpler things are the ones that are true. All he knows is that sometimes Fionna looks at him like she wants nothing more than to crawl into his lap and just _live_ there forever, and sometimes she looks like she can't stay far enough away from him and maybe that's just what relationships are. He's never had a very functional relationship before, so he's probably not the best emotional role model for her.

But all that he can really do is try, and he tries so hard to make up for everything. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't, and regaining trust is very much a hit-and-miss activity, kind of like dodge ball with hand grenades.

So, yeah. It's a slow process.

But Marshall Lee has had a long time to work on his patience, and he's already been through this with Fionna once. So he has confidence that they'll make it past this.

Marshall Lee the Vampire King might make some pretty stupid decisions sometimes, but he always learns from his mistakes.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee arrives at Fionna's house at seven in the evening, which is pretty early for him. He even decides to carry his umbrella (it is not a parasol, parasols are for girls and Marshall Lee is a <em>man<em> so he gets an umbrella) despite the fact that the autumn sun is low in the sky.

He loves autumn because the leaves change colors and fall off, and eating red maple leaves sounds kind of weird but the taste is amazing. And he loves winter because it's almost always cloudy and overcast, and when the sun isn't shining he can fly around the kingdoms in the daytime.

Fionna is very much a creature of summer and sunshine, though, and ever since he's known her she's disdained the cold weather and dreary fog that comes with winter in Ooo. It's ironic because her birthday is in late October and right at the cusp of the cold season, and the year she'd turned fifteen she'd refused to let anyone throw her a party because being cold makes her grumpy.

(Marshall Lee is kind of looking forward to this winter, though, because something he'd learned even before they'd started dating is that a cold Fionna is a cuddle-happy Fionna, prone to gluing herself to the side of whoever happened to be closest.)

So anyway, he gets to Fionna's house at a time that's pretty early for him, but to be honest he just didn't feel like sleeping. So here he is.

Even though the fall season is just beginning, the wooden floor of their tree house is cold beneath Marshall Lee's feet, and he glances around the empty living room before stepping further into the house. It's quiet, which is odd for Fionna and Cake, but he knows that they're here because something is beeping in the kitchen and the lights are on.

After standing awkwardly for a few seconds, he turns to see Cake climbing down the stairs, balancing a tray in one hand and a couple books in the other, with a pillow tucked under an arm. The feline looks a bit worse for wear, and he clears his throat to get her attention. Cake jumps at the sound and turns to look at him slowly with a guilty expression.

"Oops," she says, biting her lip. "I was supposed to call you and tell you not to come this week."

Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow at her, but does the gentlemanly thing and takes the tray and books from her hands. He's a bit more equipped to carry them, what with his opposable thumbs. She purrs thankfully and moves into the kitchen, and he follows her.

"Can I ask why?" he says, setting the tray down onto the counter by the sink and inspecting the contents. On it is a bowl of half-eaten tomato soup (his stomach turns and his lips curl in disgust. Fucking tomatoes.), a picked-at sandwich, and several crumpled up tissues.

"Fionna's sick. We think she has the flu, so she wanted me to call you and tell you not to come because she didn't want you to get sick too," Cake tells him, reaching up to dump the soup down the sink. She sets the books down on the table and then collapses into a chair with a sigh.

"You okay?" Marshall Lee asks, surprising both of them.

He and Cake have never been that close, but it feels like lately they've been making an unconscious effort to better understand each other. They are both important to Fionna, so they've always had that mutual connection, but it turns out that they have a bit more in common than that; like, they're both musically inclined, though Cake tends to lean towards classical and Marshall Lee is more of a rocker. They even had a jam-session once.

And ever since that whole breaking up/making up debacle nearly a month ago, Marshall Lee has done his best to get back into both Fionna's and Cake's good graces, and the cat seems to understand and appreciate his sincerity.

It's weird to think that Cake is becoming less of a my-girlfriends-older-sister and more of a pal, but it's a good kind of weird, and Fionna is proud of them both for it.

Cake sighs and looks out the window, holding up her face with one paw. "Yeah, I guess. I mean, Mochro's sister is supposed to be having her foal sometime this week, but I have to stay here and take care of Fionna." She blinks as she realizes what she's just said, then back peddles. "Not that I don't mind doing that! I was just really looking forward to being there when it happened." She bites her lip. "It's just… it was important to me."

She blinks and then shakes her head rapidly. "But it's not a big deal."

He nods in understanding and sits down beside her, elbows on the table and chin propped up in his hands. "Have you thought about getting someone to watch her for you?" he asks, trying to prompt her to make the request of him. She doesn't get the subtle approach.

"I mean, yeah, but I'm the only one who's close enough to her that's not humanoid, so I wouldn't be able to catch it," Cake says, ears flopping back. He clears his throat again and when she looks up at him, he has an eyebrow raised. "Oh, you. Ohhh, you!"

"Me," Marshall Lee says with a smirk, leaning back in his chair. "Vampires don't get human sicknesses."

Cake thinks about it, weighing her options, but then shakes her head and says, "But Fionna doesn't want you to be here."

A sinking feeling forms in his stomach, and he can't help the sudden rush of hurt at those words. He thought that they'd been making progress, that they'd been building that trust back up… "Why not?" he asks, trying to be nonchalant, but there must be a smidgeon of desperation there because Cake looks up at him in confusion.

"Well, I…" She realizes how he took that and laughs, throwing her head back and kicking her legs under the table. "No, honey," she says soothingly. "It's not that she doesn't want you here, it's that she doesn't want you _here_. Flus are nasty and disgusting." She shrugs, a smirk on her face at his sheepish expression. "She doesn't want you to see her barf everything up."

Marshall Lee rolls his eyes and scoffs. "I've been around for a long, long time. I've seen my share of barf and snot. It's not going to scare me off."

Cake bites her lips again and fidgets, seeing an opportunity present itself and wanting to take advantage of it. But at the same time she wars with her loyalty to Fionna and how she doesn't want to embarrass her friend. Finally she says hesitantly, "Let me go talk to her and make sure it's okay with her." Despite her cautious enthusiasm, she nearly bounds out of the room and back up the stairs.

Marshall Lee waits in the kitchen for a long time, getting up to poke around the cabinets for anything red. After about five minutes something barrels into him from behind, nearly knocking him to the ground, and the soft texture of Cake's fur wraps around his back as she squeals "_THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!"_

She jumps off of him and wiggles giddily. "Mochro's going to be so surprised when I show up," she gushes, running into the living room to collect her things. Marshall Lee lets out a puff of laughter and follows her, a smirk on his face. Cake continues talking at what seems like hyper speed as she grabs her dulcimer and a brightly-colored bag that says 'Congrats!' on it.

"Okay so Fionna is kind of just dozing right now, and she has her bucket in case she throws up, and if she gets bored BMO is up there with some movies, so just check in on her every hour or so to make sure she's okay. She might get hungry but so far she hasn't been able to keep anything down, so I guess just keep trying until something works." She stops and takes a deep breath before squealing, and Marshall Lee winces as the high-pitched noise hurts his delicate ears. "I'm so excited omagosh!"

Marshall Lee jumps in surprise as the cat once more throws her arms around him, but this time she clings to his legs and nuzzles her head against his knees. "Thank you so much!" she meows, and he looks around uncomfortably as she squeezes.

"Yeah, yeah" he says finally, reaching down to pat her fluffy head. "Now get going, you fur ball."

Cake doesn't need to be told twice. She pauses briefly at the door to say, "Call me if you need anything!" and then she's gone, and the house is strangely quiet without her.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee takes an hour nap, just until the sun is fully set, and then decides that it's time to check in on Fionna. He floats up the stairs, a bit curious as to what state she'll be in, and cautiously knocks on the door. "Hey, puff," he calls out, "you decent?"<p>

After a couple seconds there's a sort of croaking sound which he assumes is affirmative, and he opens the door and pokes his head in. He can barely contain a wince.

Fionna looks horrible, but not a disgusting horrible. It's more that type of horrible that sick people look like, when they're exhausted and they just want to sleep but their bodies won't let them. She has shadows under her eyes, which droop and blink at him tiredly, and her nose is red and chapped from all the sneezing she's done. She's surrounded herself almost entirely in furs, and what little he can see of her body is pale and dressed in a long, thick shirt.

He wants to say that Fionna looks gorgeous despite all of this, but honestly she really doesn't. Not that she's repulsive, but she definitely doesn't look her best. That's cool though, Marshall Lee isn't in love with her because she's hot (though that might be a contributing factor…), so it's not that difficult to overlook her temporary repulsiveness. (Oh, wait..)

"How you feeling, babe?" he asks, the pet name coming naturally.

Fionna sniffles and glares at him, an unspoken statement of _how do you think I feel, jackass_ nearly radiating off of her. He smiles disarmingly, and after a couple seconds she sighs through her nose. The breath comes out with a whistle due to her swollen nasal passages, and Marshall Lee can barely withhold a grin.

"Like poop," she says truthfully, her voice hoarse and quiet due to constant coughing. She grumbles when he lands at the foot of the large bed and cocks his head at her. Her knees are drawn up and a plastic bucket sits between them, a convenient cradle for the puke-bucket, and though she looks a little queasy there is thankfully nothing in the can at the moment.

Something boops behind him, and Marshall Lee turns to look over his shoulder. BMO sits on the dresser across the room, and once it has his attention it waves cheerfully, tinny robotic voice squeaking, "Hello!" The vampire waves back, and BMO whirs as it shuffles through its internal library. "Would you like to watch a movie?" it hums, the screen that serves as its face morphing in a big PLAY button.

Marshall Lee glances back at Fionna and shrugs. "I don't mind. You?"

She hunches a bit further over her bucket and sniffles. "You don't have to stay up here if you don't want to," she mumbles. "I know that I'm really super gross right now."

"A little, yeah," Marshall Lee says, smirking and laughing when Fionna glares and tries to throw a pillow at him. The movement jostles her sore body though, and she falls back into her upright position with a wince. Marshall Lee reaches out and brushes some of her hair out of her face, and her slightly red eyes look up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

"Look, Fi. If you want me to leave, then I'll leave. If you want me to stay then I'll stay." He takes one of her hands and holds it between two of his, threading their fingers together. He can't tell if the red on her cheeks is because she has a fever or because she's blushing. "But if you leave the decision up to me, I'm going to stay anyway."

A moment passes before a smile titles Fionna's lips. She settles further back into her pillows and reaches out to pat the space beside her. Marshall Lee smirks and settles in against her, careful not to move her too much or upset her stomach.

BMO clicks and hums as its projector opens up and the movie starts, and Fionna says quietly, "You're a pretty cool dude, bro."

Marshall Lee grins and throws his arm over her shoulder. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

><p>Fionna falls asleep towards the end of the movie, and Marshall Lee carefully arranges her into a comfortable position before leaving, telling BMO to keep playing the movie as background noise.<p>

He heads back down the stairs and glances at the clock, surprised that it's almost twelve in the morning. He knows that Fionna probably won't wake up for any significant amount of time again, so he decides to explore her kitchen to try and find something to feed her when she gets up in the morning, and maybe after that he'll clean up her messy house a little bit.

Marshall Lee is not a particularly meticulous person, but even he gets bored easily and he didn't have the foresight to bring his guitar with him. He spends the majority of the night sweeping and picking up trash and peeking in on Fionna to make sure that she's still doing okay. It's the sort of mindless muscle-memory activity that he doesn't really like but that passes the time nicely.

Thankfully, a sick Fionna isn't a very active Fionna, so Marshall Lee doesn't feel very bad about falling over onto the couch at eight in the morning and going to sleep.

Of course, unlike Fionna he is a light sleeper, so he immediately jerks into awareness when there is a loud thump from the direction of the kitchen. He floats himself off of the couch and into the other room, eyebrows shooting up as he realizes that Fionna is sort of stumbling around in a daze. That's not the weird thing, though.

The weird thing is that she's wearing a robe that's opened up to reveal that she's missing a shirt, and a pair of what can only be boxers. Thankfully she's wearing a bra, but it's still strange to see her shuffling around with her eyes closed pretty much half naked.

"Fionna?" he says in surprise, and she turns to look at him blearily. He looks her up and down, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappear into his hairline.

"'M hungry," she mumbles by way explanation, and he floats over to her and closes the robe for her, lifting one hand to press against her forehead. Her skin burns angrily beneath his palm and alarm rises within him. "'N I'm hot."

"Come on, Fi," he says gently, shepherding her out of the room and back up the stairs. He'd pick her up and float her there, but he's kind of afraid that she'd blow chunks on him. She shivers against him, her body shuddering with a sudden chill.

"I dun like being sick," she informs him hoarsely. He's about to lean her back down onto her bed when she abruptly freezes against him, an agonized expression on her face. He knows that look.

He pushes Fionna to kneel on the ground and barely grabs the bucket and thrusts it under her face before she starts heaving, stomach muscles clenching and writhing as her body tries to expel what just isn't there. He pulls back her hair and rubs her back in sympathy as she spits up greenish, acidic-smelling bile and then dry heaves and gags for a full two minutes before shaking and sniffling.

Marshall Lee carefully pulls her up and into the bed, turning her so she's lying on her back with her front half propped up. She pants lightly in exertion and clutches at the blankets that surround her. "I'm sorry," she says quietly.

He shakes his head at her and goes into the adjoining bathroom to wash out the bucket before the smell of it makes _him_ sick. "It's not your fault," he calls to her, dumping the disgusting mix of bile and water out into the toilet.

Marshall Lee returns to Fionna's bed and gives her the can, which she takes with shaking hands. Her eyes are big and watery as she watches him tiredly, swallowing to try and get the taste out of her mouth. He brushes her hair out of her face and smiles sadly, offering what comfort he can. There's not much more they can do but wait it out.

Exhaustion quickly takes its hold on them both, and Marshall Lee stretches out on the bed beside her and the two of them doze fitfully through the day.

* * *

><p>The next two days pass in very much the same way, though with a bit less vomiting. Every few hours Marshall Lee will fix her something simple, usually starches, like rice or pasta and pretty much force feed it to her. Fionna frequently coughs herself into fits of dry heaving as her body rejects the virus that's taken hold of her. Cake calls three times while she's gone to check in on them, but even after she confirms that the foal has been born (it's a boy, by the way) she doesn't seem very inclined to come back home to a sick human and a worried vampire.<p>

And he is worried, kind of. It's stressful to see her in pain, but at the same time there is a part of him that's gratified to feel useful and needed.

Thankfully illnesses like these tend to run their courses quickly, and by the third day Fionna is sitting up in bed, glaring at Marshall Lee as he takes BMO back downstairs with him.

"You need to get some sleep," he smirks at her, "and I need to clean up a bit to get rid of all these germs before you get sick _again_."

"But I'm not s-sleepy," she yawns, then realizes her mistake and glares even harder. Marshall Lee can't contain a grin.

"Uh huh." He reaches out with the hand that doesn't have BMO tucked against his head to ruffle her hair, sees that it is looking a bit stringy and grungy because she hasn't had the energy to take a shower, and just pats her head instead. Part of him is afraid that her glare will melt off his face if it continues for too long, so he heads out of the room, calling out, "Just give it another day or two, Fi, and then you can do whatever you want."

"Like punch your face in!" she shouts after him. He lifts a land up and waves at her over his shoulder as he descends down the stairs.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, he decides that first he needs to tackle the giant stack of dishes that's piled up over the last few days. Actually his addition to the pile isn't that much; Fionna has a strange aversion to cleaning, and Cake refuses to do anything if there's water involved, so usually dish washing only happens once or twice a month in their house, and only after they've used every dish several times.

(Once, several years ago, he'd questioned her about it. She said that usually they wash everything once the tastes start to blend together because of all the different meals cooked in the same pots.)

Marshall Lee sets BMO down on the counter a few feet from the sink and says, "Hey, hotstuff. You know any cool jams?"

The robot snaps its little fingers and says in its cheerful, static-y voice, "Booooooy, I got all the jams."

(Marshall Lee doesn't even try to restrain a smile. He has always had a secret fondness for the little machine. _It's just so cute._)

He turns on the tap and waits for the water to heat up, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms. "Oh yeah? All of 'em?"

"Mmm-_hmmm_," BMO says, an unimpressed look on its pixelated face. "I got stuff from before the Great Mushroom War."

Marshall Lee looks up in surprised, genuinely pleased. "Seriously? Like what?"

BMO presses a button on its console, and a guitar strumming in rhythm with a piano fills the kitchen. "Like _everything_."

The vampire gets a blank look on his face, then says, "…is that the Beatles?" A fangy grin finds its way to his face as BMO nods, and he shakes his head cheerfully as he turns the water off and starts dropping dishes into the sink.

The next thirty minutes is spent rocking out and washing dishes (he had to take a quick break to shimmy across the floor with BMO when She Loves You started playing.), and now he sways slightly and sings along under his breath, digging into a greasy pan with a bit of steel wool.

He jumps abruptly when something presses into his back, and looks over his shoulder to see that Fionna is clinging to him, her head tucked in the space between his shoulder blades and her arms snaking to wrap around his chest. After a couple seconds his hips begin to move from side to side again, and her body follows his, swaying as the music plays in the background.

"You okay?" he asks her, rinsing the pan and picking up something else, a bowl this time. She nods against his back, and his shirt feels kind of wet. He inhales and catches a scent of vanilla, and realizes that she's taken a shower.

"Yeah. I just got sore from lying down for so long." Her arms tighten around his chest. "I just wanted to get up and move around a bit."

He goes through another sink-full of dishes before Fionna asks, "What music is this?"

Marshall Lee actually puts down the plate in his hands and wipes his hands against his pants to dry them before turning around so that her head is now against his chest instead of his back. He stares at her in incomprehension. "You seriously don't know?"

She shakes her head and he gapes at her. "Oh my god. BMO, baby, turn it up. We gotta educate this chick."

The beat picks up as the singer croons, "_All you need is love_," and Marshall Lee takes Fionna's hand in his and snaps her out abruptly, pushing her away from him and then reeling her back in. She gasps in surprise and yelps as he spins her, laughing.

"Are we dancing?" she asks in confusion, feet working to keep her upright as he pulls her away from the counter he'd been leaning against and further into the room.

He laughs and says cheerfully, "No, I'm just tossing you around for the hell of it." She stares at him, then a smile cracks her face and she lets him twirl her again. The two of them spin and whirl around the room, Fionna laughing in surprise at the catchy song, and by the time it ends she's out of breath and sagging against him.

The next song plays, a slower one this time, and Marshall Lee winds them back down into a gentle sway. He leans his chin against the top of her head and closes his eyes, humming along.

Fionna ducks her head against his chest, and she feels wonderful and warm against him, and it's almost like there were never any problems with them in the first place.

"Tell me something," Fionna says quietly, her hands barely meeting around the expanse of his back. Marshall Lee doesn't have the most broad of shoulders or the thickest chest, but he's tall enough to feel like he can protect her, and that's good enough for him.

"Like what?" he asks, eyes still closed. He feels her shrug against him.

"Anything. Something about when you were younger. Anything at all."

He thinks about it for a few minutes. Younger can mean anything to a vampire, really. Younger can mean when he was two hundred, as opposed to five hundred. Of course he could spin one of his adventures before he'd settled down in his cave, but Fionna had already heard most of his better ones. What could he talk about that she didn't already know?

"…When I was about… I dunno, maybe eight, my mom came up from the Nightosphere to visit me. It was right after my dad died."

He pauses and Fionna waits silently for him to continue. "At the time I didn't realize it, but looking back I know that the reason she didn't spend much time with me was because she was mourning in her own way. But I was really lonely and sad, and when she said that she had to go back I started to cry."

His throat feels kind of hot and thick as he remembers it, and he swallows heavily.

"She made me come over to her and stand on her feet, and she put her hands on my shoulders, and she sang this song and we danced. And then I didn't feel so sad anymore."

Fionna blinks up at him. "This song, playing right now?"

"Yup," he says with a grin, nodding.

She bites her lip carefully, then very gently steps up and puts her feet on top of his, so that when he sways he takes her weight with him. "Like this?" she asks, sticking out her tongue and staring in concentration at their feet.

Marshall Lee throws his head back and laughs a deep belly-laugh before quieting and saying softly, "Yeah, just like this."

"Now sing," she commands, and he chuckles good naturedly.

"Naa, naa na na na naaa, na na na naa, hey Jude," he murmurs into her hair, just barely keeping time with the song.

The two of them sway in one spot, her feet on top of his, and the water in the sink cools as it's forgotten.

**(this is chapter is so many of my weaknesses; sick chicks, domestication, dancing, and the beatles. _mother fuckin' beatles_. also, this is how writing this chapter went down:**

**me: i need to write chapter 14.  
>brain: we should write smut<br>me: what. no. i don't even really like smut. besides that would throw all of the pacing off.  
>brain: don't care, write smut<br>me: no. stop that.  
>brain: fine then, have some writer's block until i get my smut<br>me: fuuuu-**

**EDIT: fanfiction be eatin' my words! :|)**


	15. Ain't No Rest for the Wicked

Fionna has never really had a functional family.

Cats are, by their own natures, independent animals. That's probably why Cream left when she was still young, and why when Cake and Fionna struck out into the world a year or so afterwards their parents weren't really that upset. That's just the nature of things, really.

To be completely honest, even though she was accepted into their little family clowder and she called them Mom and Dad she'd never really felt like they were her parents. There was always something so… alien about them. There were just too many differences for her to feel entirely comfortable.

But that doesn't mean that she didn't mourn when they'd died; they'd raised her and loved her and cared for her even when they didn't really have too, and she might not have thought of them as her _parents_ but she's always considered them to be _family_. An unconventional, strange family, but family nonetheless.

So she's never really understood this beef that Marshall Lee has with his mom.

On the one hand, Fionna is an understanding girlfriend who acknowledges that Marshall Lee is a complex individual with complex feelings and emotions and a complex relationship with his mother, and also probably an inferiority complex to boot. She gets that. She accepts it as just another quirk that adds to the over-all person that is Marshall Lee, and makes it one of the reasons she cares about him so much.

On the other hand… come on, bro. They're just _fries_.

But then again, there's probably an entirely untold story behind this that she doesn't know about, because for the most part Marshall Lee keeps a tight lip on his vampire-related past. Any time she'd tried to bring up the subject of his mother, even before they'd started dating, her undead boyfriend would clam up and grow irritable and short-tempered, and then disappear for a week or two to brood.

She likes to think that maybe the fries were, like, a metaphor for a more deep-rooted and emotional problem, because that makes Marshall Lee more poetic and mysterious. But she also knows that the truth is that he's probably just a grumpy super-old vampire with mommy issues.

Fionna accepts that she will probably never know why Marshall Lee feels the way he does about his mother, and her own interaction with the Lady of Evil is very limited and, admittedly, a bit biased. She's actually a bit terrified of meeting her boyfriend's deathless mom again, because slicing open her throat and sending her back into the pits of hell probably didn't make for a very good first impression. In her defense, she's a heroine and heroines are supposed to stop people when they start sucking up souls and killing people.

Besides, she'd hurt Marshall Lee's feelings. _No es beuno._

So yeah, Fionna has always dreaded the day that she would be reintroduced to Marshall Lee's mom, and this is a feeling that she strongly believes that he shares. So they're both understandably horrified when the aforementioned Lady of Evil shows up in the middle of a date.

* * *

><p>Well, it's not a date in the conventional sense. Dates with Marshall Lee tend to be less dinner-and-a-movie and more of a dicking-around-Ooo-aimlessly affair. This includes, but is not limited to, wrestling with gnomes, baking with Gumball, and chasing wolves. Basically stuff that they would both do separately, except they do it together and sometimes make out afterwards.<p>

Right now they're still at the wrestling-with-gnomes stage, which is not as fun as it sounds. Gnomes are ugly, snappy, quick little buggers who like to come out at night and wreck gardens and set shrubbery on fire, and right now the little colony of house-people is infested with them. Thankfully, gnomes are also very, very stupid.

"You know, I've been around for a long time, and there are still things about Ooo that I don't get," Marshall Lee says thoughtfully, lifting a heavy combat boot and punting one of the gnomes off of the back of the police-building. The sheriff squeaks out a thank you and then runs off to join his building brethren. "Like, how a town can be literally alive like this."

Fionna bends down and pinches the shirt of one of the gnomes, a big greasy fat one with a face like a half-squashed potato, and lifts it up. "I think that they're kind of like turtles," she says, ignoring the punching and squealing to fit it into a slingshot, closing an eye and aiming before releasing the tension in the rubber. The gnome flies off into the night sky with a scream, and the two of them stop to judge the distance.

"Nice," Marshall Lee commends, kicking a gnome that's trying to climb up his leg in the face.

"Thanks. Anyway, I think they're like turtles." She scoops up a batch of the little blighters and dumps them into the old well, who yells at her angrily. "I think they just like… pop into their shells and stuff."

He shrugs and stomps roughly on one of the more daring gnomes, flattening it like a deflated balloon. It twitches on the ground for a moment before puffing back up, wrinkling its ugly face to glare at him. Marshall Lee hisses, opening his mouth to reveal vicious fangs, and the gnome squeaks and retreats.

"I mean, I don't really care about what they are. It's just something I don't get."

Fionna rolls her eyes at him and aims a swift kick in the rear at the largest of the gnomes, who starts babbling and running off. The rest of the pests quickly follow him, shaking their tiny fists with long, hideous nails at Fionna and Marshall Lee.

After all of the chatter of the gnomes, the night seems too quiet, and Marshall Lee turns his head up to stare at the sky. The moon is a tiny sliver of silver up in the inky blackness, barely shining enough light onto the land below to see, and there isn't a cloud in sight. The clear mid-October night is cold, and when he turns to look at Fionna he can see her breath puffing out visibly.

"You cold?" he asks. He raises an eyebrow at her when she shakes her head.

"Nah," she says cheerfully, "not after all that running around. I'll probably start freezing in a couple minutes, though."

After a couple thoughtful seconds, Marshall Lee unzips his bomber jacket and throws it at her, laughing when she yelps and just barely catches it. She narrows her eyes at him and he lifts a hand to hide his grin.

"I said I wasn't cold yet."

He shrugs with a smile and draws his legs up so that he's floating a couple feet off the ground, like he's lounging in the air. "Well," he says flippantly, "that's for when you do."

She rolls her eyes up at him again before jogging to where the other house people were hiding. She bends down and speaks inaudibly to the mayor, and the night is quiet and peaceful but Marshall Lee can't help but feel like something's _wrong_.

It's a feeling that persists the entire flight back to his house, even with Fionna clinging to him and pressing lovely curves up against him. He sets her down on the dock and lands beside her, and the feeling of _wrongness_ increases when he sees that there are lights on in his house. Fionna doesn't get the significance, but she catches on quickly when he lifts a hand up to his lips and signals for silence.

He reaches for the doorknob with one hand puts one arm in front of Fionna as if to shield her, turning to glare at her when she shrugs it off with narrowed eyes. Her sword is in her hands, and she nods at him quietly. Marshall Lee's hand tightens on the knob, and then turns and throws the door open.

Marshall Lee jumps away from Fionna and shrieks. He _shrieks_. _Marshall Lee shrieks_.

It takes Fionna a second to recognize the woman because she hasn't seen her in almost five years, but once she does she immediately understands Marshall Lee's terror. In fact, if she wasn't scared into silence she'd probably be shrieking too.

"_Mom?_"

The Lady of Evil stands in the middle of the living room, looking almost exactly the way Fionna remembers her; all manicured nails and sharp dress suits and hair done up in a perfect jet-black bun, complete with an unimpressed scowl as they stand dumbly in the threshold.

"Your door's broken, dear," she informs Marshall Lee smartly, crossing her arms and tapping a heeled foot on the floor. Her slitted eyes land on Fionna and narrow even further. "Didn't you cut me open once?"

Fionna squeaks and ducks behind Marshall Lee, peeking out at the _creature of pure evil_ standing in her boyfriend's living room.

Marshall Lee glances at the little human over his shoulder and his eyes harden slightly, muscles tensing as he turns back to his mother. "What are you _doing here_, mom?" he asks coolly, mirroring her stance by crossing his arms defensively.

The demoness raises an eyebrow and sniffs. "I thought I'd taught you better manners than that," she says, voice tinged with disappointment. When Fionna looks up at him, he has an expression reminiscent to a kicked puppy, and she's torn between feeling amused and feeling embarrassed for him.

"Now then," his mother continues firmly, "are you going to actually invite me in or are we just going to stand here and posture at each other?"

Marshall Lee sputters incoherently for a few seconds before his shoulders sag and he sighs. "Yes, ma'am," he says in a small voice, gesturing to the couch.

It's weird for Fionna, to see Marshall Lee being so submissive. Last time she'd seen him interact with his mother, he'd been filled with a righteous fury that had spurred him into aggression. Now without that fury to back him up, he looks kind of like a puppy that's used to getting bopped on the nose with a newspaper frequently.

The Lady of Evil obliges and takes a seat on the couch, crossing her legs daintily. "This furniture is incredibly comfortable," she says thoughtfully, and Fionna can barely restrain a giggle. That would probably get her killed, though, so she swallows it with difficulty. "Now then," the demoness says, brightening up a bit as she looks around. "Do you have any fresh souls lying around? I'm feeling a bit peckish." She waves a hand at the other two dramatically. "Cross-dimensional travel can be so draining."

Marshall Lee's voice retains some of its original coolness as he says, "No, _mom_. And you can't go around sucking up souls again."

She observes him sharply and doesn't move until he squirms uncomfortably. Once she's cowed him again she shrugs and sighs prettily. "Pity," she hums.

"Now then," the Lady of Evil says in the manner of someone who's finally getting down to business after having to deal with unnecessary shenanigans all day, "I know it's been a while since I popped in, Marley, but I actually have a _reason_ for showing up tonight." She leans forwards, propping one elbow on a knee and placing her chin in her hand, smiling like the cat that got the canary. "Word in the vampire grapevine is that you got yourself a _girl_."

All traces of amusement leave Fionna and she freezes alongside Marshall Lee, glancing at him with wide eyes. His adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows nervously. One of his hands reaches around to her lower back and settles there, and a warmth blooms in Fionna's stomach as she thinks that this is a gesture of comfort. That warmth is very quickly stomped out when he pushes her forwards.

She twists her head to stare at him, and they have a silent battle of wills.

_She's going to kill me No she's not calm down it'll be okay SHE'S GOING TO KILL ME MARSHALL LEE Okay maybe she will but I'll remember you fondly I HATE YOU YOU STUPID JACKASS_

His mother watches this exchanged with eyebrows raised and a slowly darkening expression as she catches on. Finally Fionna takes a deep breath, levels Marshall Lee with a glare that promises vengeance later, and steps forwards.

"Um. Hi, Miss…. Marshall Lee's mom."

The Lady of Evil's eyes narrow slightly and she says in a perfectly friendly, silky-smooth voice that sends chills running up Fionna's spine, "We've met, if you recall. And please." The smile on her face is dangerous and all fangs, making any of Marshall Lee's snarls look like cute little kitten yawns in comparison. "Call me _Martha_."

And that's how Fionna ended up having a surprise girl-talk-slash-slumberparty with her boyfriend's mom.

* * *

><p>It takes a lot of cajoling, bargaining, and finally threatening for The Lady of Ev—I mean, Martha to convince Marshall Lee to give her some private time with Fionna.<p>

"I just want to catch up, Marley!" she coos comfortingly, nearly shoving her son out of the room. "Just want to get to know her a little better!"

"But ma, why can't-"

She silences his protests with a cheerful little tut, patting him on the head in a way that's just too sincere to be anything but condescending. "I'm not going to hurt her, silly! Now scoot on out!"

"But _ma_—"

Martha pecks the top of his head and pushes him gently into the hallway. "No buts! Be a good little boy and run along, we're just going to have a bit of girl time." She grins disarmingly, but the smile has too many sharp teeth to be comforting. "Now shoo, there's a good dear."

Marshall Lee glances over his shoulder with a helpless expression, but no matter how pleadingly Fionna shakes her head he just can't deny his mother.

"Okay, mama," he says, defeated, and sends one last agonized look at Fionna before plodding sullenly to his room.

For a thousand-year-old Vampire King, Marshall Lee sure is a pushover.

And now Fionna is stuck in a room with the Lady of Evil, who also happens to be her boyfriend's mother.

She swallows fearfully when Martha slowly turns to look at her with slitted, ruby-red eyes. Now that Marshall Lee isn't around to act as a buffer, it feels like there's a force pressing down on Fionna's chest, an almost tangible feeling of _hate_.

Martha advances quietly, any sounds her heels might have made becoming muffled in the carpet, and finally stops in front of the couch where Fionna was forced to sit. The human stares down at her hands in her lap to avoid the heavy, oppressive weight of those evil red eyes on hers.

There is a full moment of silence as the tension builds and if Fionna was cold before she's definitely not now, what with the nervous sweat pricking at her forehead. Just when she thinks she's about to crack, Martha plops down onto the couch beside her in a completely unladylike way, nearly opposite of how she'd sat on it before. The force of it makes Fionna's side of the couch bounce a little bit, and she squeaks in surprise.

"Honestly, I don't know why _I_ always have to be the bad guy," Martha says suddenly with something suspiciously like a pout in her voice. Fionna gulps and fidgets, not sure of an appropriate response.

"I mean, _really_. I come all the way up from the Nightosphere to visit my baby, do you even _know_ how bad cross-dimensional traffic can be? And all I want to do is find out who this girl that everyone's talking about is and I get here and it's _you_." She huffs out a breath and closes her eyes, leaning backwards into the couch, her blue skin an awkward contrast to the faded red of the fabric.

Fionna can't help but bristle a bit at the way she'd said _you_, like she wasn't good enough for Marshall Lee. "Is that a bad thing?" she says defensively, momentarily forgetting that she was talking to the embodiment of everything that was evil in the world.

Martha's red eyes open and slide over to her, and Fionna abruptly remembers that fact. But she stands her ground and holds the gaze, feeling like she has a point to prove now.

"No offense to you, dear," Martha says in a way that obviously means she doesn't care if Fionna is offended or not. "I'm sure you're quite the lady. It's just, I think that my Marshall Lee might need someone a bit less…" she pauses to think of the word, but Fionna cuts to the chase.

"Mortal?" Her voice is cool and almost challenging.

One of Martha's lips curls up, as if looking at something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. "…_fragile_," she corrects calmly.

"He and I have already had this conversation," Fionna says

Martha pounces on the opportunity. "Then surely you know that this is just going to end badly for the both of you."

Fionna's determination slips for a moment as she remembers the dark pain she'd felt, the way his soft-spoken words had cut through her like a knife, the awkward struggle to regain their equilibrium afterwards. Sometimes, when she gets sad and quiet and she thinks about it too much, she almost agrees with his argument. She is too fragile.

But then she thinks about how protected and cared for she feels when his strong hands encompass hers, how his face seems to light up when he sees her after a week of absence, how he has a certain smile, just for her. And maybe she's fragile, yeah. But somewhere deep down Marshall Lee is fragile, too.

"I know," Fionna says, her voice a bit stronger, a certain steel behind her words. "But," she remembers something from when she was younger and smirks, "it'll be a pretty sweet ride, up until that point."

Martha stares at her in something that isn't quite surprise, but comes pretty close to it. "This is going to break his heart eventually," she says, like she's stating a fact of nature. And maybe she is.

"Yeah. Mine too," Fionna agrees, and when she says this she knows it to be true.

They sit in thoughtful silence for a few moments, then Martha says simply, "Well this is just positively _evil_. I love it."

At this Fionna turns to look at her in shock, unbelieving that it was actually that easy to get Marshall Lee's mom to accept this. Then again, as much as she hates to think about it, it's only temporary. Martha won't have to deal with her for an eternity like she would if Marshall Lee was dating an immortal girl that she didn't like. The thought is a sobering one, but Fionna likes to take her victories where she can and the weight is lifted a bit off of her chest.

"So… you're okay with us dating? Even though I'm a mortal?" she clarifies, and Martha shrugs.

"I suppose. You're much better than that Ashley girl, at any rate." She thinks about it for a second, then a horrified expression crosses her face and she moans. "_I am never going to have grandchildren_," she cries in distress, throwing a hand over her eyes and whining.

Fionna blushes so violently that the light dusting of freckles across her nose disappears into the red, and Martha catches a glimpse of it and laughs in a way that caught between genuine and condescending. But Fionna is starting to realize that there's no real middle ground with the Lady of Evil, so she doesn't take offense at it. She forces herself to relax and gives a hesitant smile, but that very quickly drops when she sees the dangerous smirk on Martha's face.

"Speaking of which, have you two done it yet?"

The blush is back in full force, spreading down to her chest and shoulders, and she ducks her head away with a squeak. "W-what? N-no, of course not," she whines, her voice becoming high pitched and embarrassed. Martha just laughs harder.

"I suppose that's a good thing, you are a bit young, dear."

Martha leans forwards conspiratorially and says quietly, "A word to the wise for when you do, though: invest in a ball gag. When vampires mate with mortals, well… the blood gets pumping and sometimes we just can't control ourselves." She stops to think about it, an almost dreamy expression on her face.

Fionna is convinced that if she blushes any harder her face will explode.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee shows up an hour later, looking grumpy and defensive and ready to break up a fight. Or maybe start one. That's why his expression of pure, unadulterated shock upon seeing the two of them chatting amicably in the kitchen sends Fionna into a fit of giggles.<p>

"Uh," he says, and Martha turns to send him a fangy smile.

"Hello, Marley! I was just telling Fionna some of your baby stories."

A flabbergasted, slack-jawed look crosses his face, and Fionna claps a hand over her mouth to contain her sputtering laughter. He looks like he can't decide if he's surprised or enraged. "But-! I, but… MOM!"

Martha shakes her head with an indulgent smile before standing up. She wipes her hands across her dress suit to straighten it out and brush off nonexistent dirt, then very carefully pushes a couple curls that escaped her bun behind her sharply pointed ears. Marshall Lee keeps making weird choked noises, and Fionna almost feels sorry for him.

It must have been nerve-wracking for him to wait so long in solitude, not knowing what state either of them would be in when he came out. She gets up as well and walks over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Martha purses her lips, and Fionna wonders if she's pushed this too far, but then thinks that she and her boyfriend's mom can play nice all they want but they'll never really be close.

It's just the nature of the beast.

Martha shakes her head and her lips quirk up. "Well, sweetheart, it was nice coming to see you, even though I didn't really see you." Marshall Lee ducks his head sheepishly. "And Fionna, it was nice to meet you when you weren't cutting my throat open."

"It was nice to meet you when you weren't mass-murdering people," she returns, a bit cuttingly behind her humor. Martha seems to appreciate it, though.

"You got spunk, kid. I'll give you that." She moves to Marshall Lee and Fionna steps away so that the two can get closer without making an awkward undead/human sandwich. Martha places a hand on his shoulder, then pulls him into a hug and rocks him slightly. "Ooh, my pretty baby," she coos, and Marshall Lee twitches uncomfortably before hugging her back. "I really do love you, you know."

"I know, ma," he says quietly, sending a grinning Fionna a sharp look over his mother's shoulder. _Don't you even say anything you buttface_.

After a minute or two he just looks awkward, and lifts his hands to her shoulders to gently push her away. Martha fights him with a grumble. "Shut up and let me love you," she growls, and his arms flop to the side as he rolls his eyes.

She leans back and holds him at arm's length and hums thoughtfully. "You really do need to cut your hair, you know, dear. You look like a hooligan."

"_Ma!_" Marshall Lee shoves himself away from her with a pout that he tries to play off but is obviously real.

Martha grins at him, then says, "Well, kids, I'd better get going. Lots of souls to torture, lots of skin to flay. You know, same old same old."

Abruptly the wall splits, opening up a portal and spilling a red light into the room. If Fionna looks too closely into the world beyond it her eyes start to ache and hurt. In fact, her entire body starts to burn, like a flame was lit an inch away from her skin, and Marshall Lee quickly pulls her behind him.

"Bye, ma!" he yells above the sudden sound of flickering flames and screaming agony that is cut off suddenly then the portal closes behind Martha as she disappears into the fire.

Marshall Lee and Fionna stand quietly in the kitchen for a moment, each in different degrees of surprise. "Well," Fionna finally says, "that's not how I was planning to spend the evening."

He pushes her a bit to put distance between them, then puts his hands on her shoulders and look her up and down carefully. "She didn't hurt you, did she?" he asks seriously, and not for the first time it occurs to Fionna that it's very possible that she's just barely dodged a brush with death tonight.

"No, I'm fine." She pauses and then smirks. "Marley."

Marshall Lee ducks his head again with a growl and shoves her shoulder, crossing his arms when she starts giggling. "Shut up, puffball!" He flops down at the table and hides his face in his arms. "I hate you."

"Sorry, _sweetheart_."

"F-Fionna! Stop that!"

"Don't make me get the ball gag."

"I- …wait, what?"

**(author's note take 1: AND THEN I DISCOVERED HOMESTUCK AND NEVER UPDATED AGAIN.  
>author's note take 2: SOMEDAY I'LL WRITE SMUT I PROMISE YOU GUYS.<br>author's note take 3: HEY YOU GUYS IT'S MY BIRTHDAY TOMORROW. /THROWSCONFETTI  
>author's note finalement: i had lots of fun with this chapter! it's weird though because it's just as long as the other ones but it feels like it's shorter to me? i dunno. anyways. oh, also! an anon reviewer asked something along the lines of if there was a scheme with the chapter titles- yes, every chapter is named after a song, and i have my own playlist for it on my ipod. if anyone is interested they can PM me and i will totally send you links to any song that you don't recognize.)<strong>


	16. Champagne Supernova

**(obligatory pre-chapter author's note, _finalement_. it's pretty raunchy, though it can be alternatively called, "leechy's guide to copping out of writing actual smut".)**

Marshall Lee is still not entirely sure where he stands with Fionna.

On the one hand, the two of them have made progress in leaps and bounds since their initial fallout nearly two months prior. Their relationship has seemed to evolve into a strange sort of mutual respect- respect for what they feel, what they want, and what their differences are. It's not something they really talk about; it's a calm, comfortable look that they share when they part in the morning, a light brush of his knuckles against her skin when they pass, or a quiet hum that starts in his chest and vibrates her back when she leans against him.

On the other hand, despite this distance they've crossed together, Fionna still seems to have an aversion to physical closeness that has only been compounded upon by his royal screw-up. She'll laugh and joke and smile at him when they're running errands for the citizens of Ooo, but the moment they're alone and he tries to initiate anything she'll tense and freeze and fidget until he realizes how uncomfortable she is.

It's a terrible thing for Marshall Lee, to know that he has possibly ruined sex for this girl. That he has made her so afraid of him leaving that she feels she has to protect this from him.

Marshall Lee is not a sex addict by any means, but he has a tendency to show his affection through physical means, and he cares a lot about Fionna. He wants to make her feel good. He wants to show her how good he can make her feel. He wants _her_. But he will never push the matter, never force the issue or press for a change. He can't. He cares about her too much.

And maybe he doesn't have to work that hard on this front; sometimes Fionna will try to get past her own insecurities, in small ways. Dancing with her when she was sick was one example of this. Or crawling into his lap and just sitting there, breathing. Baby steps.

Marshall Lee can only encourage her in small ways, with gentle touches and weightless looks, letting her go when she panics and holding her close when she clings. The nearly bipolar development frays his nerves and makes him paranoid about whether or not he's going too fast or not fast enough, and sometimes he has to force himself to just stop _thinking_ so much, because frantic thinking like this is what got them into this mess in the first place.

He just doesn't really know what else to _do_.

But he's trying, and so is she, and they've worked through problems like this before. He can only hope that they can both overcome their own differences and get through this together.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee never really plans his extended stays at Fionna's place. They just sort of happen when he's not expecting them too; when he can't seem to stay awake long enough past morning to get himself home, or when weather conditions don't allow it. He's taken to keeping a couple shirts and some jeans tucked away in her closet, and if she's noticed she hasn't said anything.<p>

It's still odd, though, waking up in the early evening in a room that isn't his and trying to find something to occupy his time until she gets back home from whatever she does without him during the day. Most of the time he uses BMO as a metronome and plays his guitar, but sometimes he cleans or reads or just lounges around and dozes away the last hours of the light, waiting for her to make her grand reappearance and slump against him in exhaustion.

Tonight he spends his time strumming his bass and listening to the rain fall through the leaves of the tree and land on the tin roof of the house, the occasional acorn making a noise like a gunshot as it falls against the metal. Fall in Ooo tends to bring as much rain as it does cold, as if preparing for the blanket of snow almost guaranteed to fall in January.

It's a dreary rain caught between a shower and a downpour, likely to flood the low areas between the hills but not enough to give cause for worry. Marshall Lee likes weather like this because it's calm and relaxing, the perfect background noise to a slow bass line. Fionna is not so enthusiastic about the change in climate because it usually confines her inside the house, unable to do much of anything.

For the moment, though, Marshall Lee has no idea where his girlfriend is. This particular storm blew up out of nowhere, starting in the late afternoon and not subsiding at all since, according to BMO. Fionna's out there, somewhere, likely irritable and grumpy because whatever adventure she was having was cut short. The thought is an amusing one, and Marshall Lee allows himself a chuckle.

That chuckle quickly turns into a choked laugh when Fionna, soaked to the bone and with an expression that would make even the Ice Queen think twice, slams open the door and stomps in. Marshall Lee watches, entertained, as she shrugs off her over shirt and lets it slap wetly onto the ground, leaving her upper half in only a tank top that clearly shows the outline of her bra. She catches sight of him right as her thumbs dip into the waistband of her pants and freezes, eyes widening in surprise.

Marshall Lee waves a hand at her, smirking. "Keep going, don't mind me."

"I… didn't realize you'd still be here," she says, and her voice is kind of shaky. His amusement dies briefly as he think that she might have been crying, but then a shiver wracks her frame and even from here he can hear her teeth chattering, so he relaxes slightly.

"Got wet, huh?" he asks, smiling winningly at her unimpressed look. He raises an eyebrow appreciatively as she pulls off her hat and hangs it up, water dripping freely down her shoulders and back. The chill meets her wet clothes and she shudders.

"Just figure that out, didja?" Fionna snaps, moving across the room and into the downstairs bathroom, leaving a trail of water after her. He hears rustling in the cupboards, and she returns with a couple towels, two thrown over a shoulder and the other ringing water out of her hair.

Marshall Lee frowns slightly. Fionna seems unusually irritable, even given the situation. "You okay?" he asks in concern, and she blows out a puff of air in agitation.

"No. I'm cold and I'm wet and Cake freaked out when it started raining and wouldn't go anywhere. So we were trapped inside of this cave for hours waiting for it to blow over so she'd come out, and I'm thinking, You know, I'm really tired and I don't really care if I get wet. But I can't just leave her alone so I stay anyway. And then I go out because I have to pee and I get attacked by this giant lizard thing who, it turns out, Cake actually knows!" She takes a deep breath after this monolog and throws up her hands. "So she ended up spending the night in the cave with the lizard and I could have been home hours ago if she'd have just let me leave!"

Fionna makes an angry whining sound and pitches face-first into the crouch, uncaring if she's getting the furniture wet. She flops her head onto Marshall Lee's thigh and sighs into the fabric of his pants. He tries to ignore the discomforting damp transferring from her skin to his, especially when she twists so that she's staring at him, her long hair soaking his pants.

"I didn't have a very good day," she informs him curtly. He drops a hand to her forehead, surprised when she feels cold even against his lukewarm skin. She closes her eyes as he runs a hand through her hair, trying to comb out the wet tangles with his fingers. It doesn't work very well.

"Go take a shower," he suggests, fisting some of her hair at the middle and dragging it down, raising an eyebrow at the amount of water that falls off of the end. "You probably need to warm up."

"Too tired," she grunts, but lifts herself up obligingly. She poises at the edge of the couch to move, then turns to look at him. There's something in her gaze that makes Marshall Lee's chest tighten, something raw and visceral in the way she leans forwards and presses her lips gently to his mouth.

He kisses her back, hand lifting once more to cup her head, tangling his fingers into the wet tendrils of her hair. He pulls away, not wanting to go too far, but Fionna follows the movement, pushing up against him. A growl rumbles through her chest as she breaks away to nip at his throat, and the sound of it and the vibration it causes against his skin chips at his firmly-held control. It's a sound he's never heard from her, one that he himself usually makes, and the switch up sends a heat tunneling down into his groin.

His hands find their way to her hips and he tugs, pulling her into his lap, surprised and pleased at the turn of events. This is the closest they've been, the most comfortable with this they've been, since their spat several months ago. Something niggles at the back of his mind, though, that this is a rather impressive leap from the shy, hesitant Fionna of the last few weeks.

It's very easy for Marshall Lee to ignore, though, and he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, especially when her hands trail from his neck down across his chest and lift up under his shirt, chilled fingers scratching lightly against his skin. His stomach jumps under the touch, and he retaliates by palming her breast and boldly thumbing a nipple, hardened by the cold wet of her shirt and their actions.

Normally going this far would cause Fionna to seize up and pull away, embarrassed, and he's not disappointed (well, he is, but in a different way) when a blush spreads across her cheeks. He's incredibly surprised, though, when she lets out a low keen and pushes back against him, ducking her head to catch his gaze from beneath her eyelashes.

Very carefully now, as if judging her reaction, Marshall Lee runs the tip of his nail across the pebbled nipple, eyelids lowering when she starts to pant. If she's this sensitive through a shirt and a bra, how would she react if he touched her bare skin? The thought goes straight to his crouch and causes him to groan, burying his face into her cleavage and running his tongue between the dip of her breasts that's exposed by her tank top.

He jerks in surprise and stops to stare at her when one of her hands slips into his waistband, scratching along the skin just below his navel.

Fionna blinks and swallows, suddenly unsure of herself, and in the next few seconds he can see her usual hesitation returning. His libido mourns the loss of her strange confidence, but now maybe he can get some answers as to what's caused this.

"You okay, Fi?" he asks, inwardly grimacing at how breathy he sounds.

Fionna opens her mouth to speak and closes it, trying to find the words. Finally she sighs and drops her head against his chest, a move that's more weary now than aroused.

"I'm just… so _tired_ of feeling afraid all the time. I don't want to be." Her lips drag across his skin. "Aren't you tired of being afraid, too?"

Her words send a wave of guilt over Marshall Lee, and he can't help but give in and wrap his arms around her, pulling her tight against himself and letting his head fall against her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, entwined in a way that's probably more intimate than if they'd have just given into temptation. After a few minutes, her body shudders against his, a reminder of her cold, wet clothing, and Marshall Lee pushes her back slightly to pull some hair out of her face.

"You should go take a shower," he says again gently, resting his forehead against hers.

She lets out a guttered breath against him. "Yeah. I probably should."

A couple seconds pass before she drags herself away, pulling her towels with her as she moves back into the bathroom. She sends him a last lingering look over her shoulder, eyes dark against her paled skin, before disappearing from view.

Marshall Lee sighs, puts his elbows on his knees, and cradles his head in his hands. He doesn't move until the shower starts running and he's sure that he's safe, then he leans back to stare down at his crotch. His libido whines pitifully and he glares. "Oh, shut up," he snaps to his groin, before falling to the side to bury his face into the couch cushions and try to ignore the uncomfortable bulge in his pants.

* * *

><p>After about a minute of moping, Marshall Lee realizes that after their little romp on the couch that his own clothes are pretty damp.<p>

Vampires don't get chills the same way that mortals do, what with their lack of blood flow; it's more of an uncomfortable sensation than an actual threat to his health like it would be for Fionna.

After a moment of contemplation he gets up and moves to the bathroom, where he can hear the water running through the pipes over the sound of the rain coming down on the house. He raps on the door with his knuckles and waits for Fionna to make a questioning noise on the other side. "You mind if I hop in there after you're done?" he asks, rocking on the balls on his heels.

A couple seconds of silence pass before Fionna says, "…yeah." There's a sort of disappointment in her voice, but Marshall Lee has been thrown for a pretty big loop tonight and doesn't really know what she wants from him.

(For all that Fionna is mature and understanding, all females seem to have a universal trait where they think that men can read their minds and immediately know exactly what they want.)

Deciding that it'd be a waste of time to change out of his wet clothes if he's just going to strip in a few minutes anyway, Marshall Lee heads into the kitchen to find something to chow on. Fionna has taken to stocking her fridge with a variety of red fruits, mostly because she got sick of hearing him complain that there was never anything for him to eat.

He goes through two apples and a strawberry (Marshall Lee is something of a nervous eater) before the door finally opens and Fionna steps out, steam rushing out of the mid-sized bathroom with her. She's wrapped herself up in a big white towel, her blonde hair starting to curl into little ringlets. She pauses briefly when she catches sight of him, then continues up the stairs to her room without a word.

Marshall Lee stands in the empty quiet room. "I'll just go… take a shower, then," he says, bemused.

There's a bit of nostalgia as Marshall Lee drags a towel for himself out of the little cupboard in the bathroom and shucks his pants. The walls are the same color, that one tile in front of the sink is still broken, and the mirror set into the wall still has a little crack in the corner. This place used to be _his, _once, and he was here for a long time. Here by himself, here with Ashley. It's kind of weird in the way that it used to feel like home, and now it doesn't, but still in a familiar, comfortable way.

Like how he knew where ever room was and the secret passageways in and out, but the furniture is different and it doesn't smell the same. It's home, but it's not, and sometimes that's still pretty jarring for him, especially now that he's spending so much time here again with Fionna.

The hot water pressure in this bathroom was always kind of sucky when he lived here, but it appears that Fionna has fixed that problem at some point, because when he turns the knob there is a gush of steaming water, already heated from Fionna's shower only a few minutes prior. Marshall Lee steps into the tub and closes the curtains before turning his head up into the spray, closing his eyes and letting the heat wash over him.

He looks around briefly at the assortment of feminine washes, lip curling as he sees that they all have some flowery scent or another. He doesn't really want to smell like a girl, thank you, and after a couple seconds of digging he finds a brick of generic soap and works a lather into his hands.

Marshall Lee isn't someone who's very concerned with his appearance and how other people perceive him; clean is clean and he doesn't want his hair smelling like "Secret Wonderland". What the fuck does a secret wonderland even smell like? Chicks are crazy. He slaps the soap bubbles into his hair and digs his fingers through it, cleaning to the scalp.

After a minute of this, he's just about to rinse when he hears the door creak open slowly and then click shut, like someone sneaking into the room. He stops, his eyes closed so soap doesn't get in them. "Fi?" There's no answer, but there is a slight rustle of fabric on the other side of the curtain.

Abruptly the metal rings holding the curtain to the pole at the top of the shower clang together and a cold gust of air slips in. Marshall Lee yelps in surprise as something presses against him, and his eyes jerk open and then immediately close on instinct when the soap stings at them. He lets out a pained hiss, but his shock returns to the forefront of his mind when arms wrap around his bare chest.

"Fionna?"

The arms tighten around him and she presses her forehead into his back, between his shoulder blades. He quickly tips his head back to flush out his eyes before turning to look at her. He realizes quite suddenly and with a rush of embarrassment that they are both _naked_, or at least he assumes that she is. She certainly feels naked and—yep, she is. Very, very naked.

Naked, naked everywhere.

Marshall Lee's gaze immediately snaps up to Fionna's face and very determinedly stays there, despite the way her own eyes drift downwards on his body. He swallows as her eyes widen slightly, and he struggles not to have a fit of panic. _What is going on with her tonight?_

"Fionna," he says, his voice just short of calm, "what're you doing?"

Her eyes shoot up to meet his once more and she fidgets. "Not being afraid anymore," she breathes against his chest, fingers trailing down his bare back to grip at his hips. He searches her face carefully, trying to find any clue that she might be doing this because she feels obligated.

He sees hesitation and apprehension, but not _fear_, not _regret_.

She steps closer to him, getting further under the spray of the water. The shower nozzle isn't wide enough to send water over them both completely, and Marshall Lee leans against the tile of the wall so that she's the one who's more towards the middle of the tub. The faux-granite is cold against his heated back/

Her breasts press against his torso, a weight that he can't ignore as her mouth finds his throat. He stands under the water, frozen in indecision as Fionna nibbles and bites at his neck, sensitive skin twitching as she closes her mouth around the bite marks on his neck and sucks, shuts his eyes and groans as she moves to drag teeth and tongue across his adam's apple. His senses seem to overload as one of her hands slowly crosses the plain of his navel, fingertips just barely touching the coarse patch of hair at his crotch.

Abruptly it occurs to Marshall Lee that their positions are supposed to be flipped, that right now she's in control and pleasuring him. That's not how it's supposed to work. His own hands jerk to life, running from her shoulders down to her breasts, the journey made smoother by the water coating them. He bends forwards and kisses her, presses himself against her and runs his tongue across the seam of her lips. She opens them invitingly, gasping into his mouth as he massages her chest.

It's been a while since Marshall Lee has gone this far with a girl, especially one as _gifted_ with her assets as Fionna is (while not fat, his girlfriend has some definite weight on her; but it's a pleasing weight that fills out her hips and breasts, and Marshall Lee's never really let anything like that stop him anyway), but it's one of those bicycle type deals. Once you've learned, you never really forget. And because Fionna is still so new to this, things that are normally just teasing have a bigger impact.

Her hands grip harder against his hips as his mouth travels down her jaw and throat, into the dip of her chest, laving her cleavage with his flexible tongue. They move up, fingernails digging almost painfully into his scalp, but in Marshall Lee's opinion there's not really anything wrong to like a bit of pain with your pleasure. His teeth nip and scrape across the swell of a breast before he closes his mouth on a pert nipple and sucks slightly.

Marshall Lee likes sex no matter who it's with, really, because sex is just one of those things that he enjoys. But the thought of doing it with _Fionna_, who he loves more than the moon itself, is a thought that gets him more aroused than any other girlfriend in the past has ever been able to do. Marshall Lee is very much a romantic. The excitement causes his skin to become overly sensitized, and the feel of her stomach against his chest and her hips against his midriff sends tingling shocks of pleasure through every nerve in his body. Even the feel of the water falling against them is exquisite, a sensory overload that causes him to groan against the skin in his mouth.

The vibration the sound causes around her nipple makes Fionna cry out and gasp, almost falling into him in surprise, her waist briefly meeting his hard on. His hips buck up against her instinctively, and Marshall Lee has to pull away to rest his head on her skin and catch his breath. Fionna's hands fall slightly to scratch against the back of his neck, grabbing the short hairs there to pull his face back up to hers.

Their lips meet in a frantic kiss, and his brief moment of rest ends as his own hands trace the contours of her stomach, feeling muscle beneath the layer of skin, and finally rest in a position that greatly mirrored hers from earlier, with one hand on her hip to steady her and the other probing hesitantly a few inches above the juncture of her legs.

"Do you trust me?" Marshall Lee mumbles against her mouth, eager to show her what her body can feel but also fearful of pushing too hard. Her eyes dart downwards before lifting up to his, a hint of anxiety and disquiet in them. They've darkened from a sunlit ocean blue-green to a stormy night metallic blue-gray, and even behind her trepidation he can see excitement and curiosity. It sends a weight off of his chest, makes him smile hopefully into her skin.

She licks her lips, tongue dancing lightly against his own for a moment, before she nods and breathes against him, "Yeah."

His fingers move downwards and press up against her, and she jerks her hips upwards with a wide-eyed keen as he finds her clit.

She nearly sags against him, but he holds her up with his other hand and a knee as he rubs and circles the little bundle of nerves with the ease of practice. Marshall Lee is one of those guys who gets more enjoyment out of arousing others; not only because he cares for Fionna greatly, more than he's ever cared for anyone before, but also because it's _gratifying_. There's no better ego boost than knowing you can wind a girl up so much with only a few tricks, nothing more satisfying than knowing it's _you_ and _only you_ who can bring her to such a high.

For Marshall Lee, sex is kind of like an emotional and physical power trip.

Fionna gasps and quakes against him, little sounds and shudders that go straight to his dick as he works her with his fingers, the calloused bass-guitarist tips scraping lightly against her slick flesh. She pants into his shoulder, puffs of breath that cause little splashes of water against him, the sound nearly drowned out by the spray of the shower. He grunts slightly when she thrusts shallowly into his wrist.

"Take a deep breath, 'kay babe?" he mutters. "I'm gonna try something different." She gasps against him when his fingers hook up, then trembles slightly as one breaches her. This is obviously not as stimulating and she shifts, a mix of inquisition and hesitation on her face. Her expression tightens as his fingers stretch her open gently, and she bites down on a nervous whimper at the somewhat unpleasant sensation.

"Relax, Fi, relax," Marshall Lee says gently. He somehow finds the voice to tell her, "It might be uncomfortable at first, but give me a bit and it'll feel good."

His digits probe upwards into her, and as she starts to get over the entirely strange feeling of penetration she gets caught up in the actions, mewling quietly against his skin. Finally his fingers touch a spot deep inside her and she clenches down abruptly, her eyes flying open as she moans. Marshall Lee grins into her neck and brushes the spot again, and her hips jerk and buck into his fingers. She positively _cries_ when his thumb starts back up again against her clit, over stimulated and shaking as she hiccups against him.

It takes only a minute of this for Fionna to break against his hand, muscles tightening and loosening rapidly, and then her legs get weak and she leans against him fully, panting and gasping for air. He gently leaves her, the slick coating his fingers getting washed off by the water pounding against them, getting cooler the longer they stay in the shower.

Marshall Lee lifts her chin up with his clean hand to kiss her, her lips working lazily against his. "That feel good, babe?" he murmurs, smirking when she gives an affirmative hum.

"Yeah," she says after a couple seconds. "Real good."

She leans back to smile at him, recovering surprisingly quickly from her orgasm, but then stops and looks down. Marshall Lee follows her face and even if he can't blush his face still feels hot with embarrassment. His arousal hasn't dimmed at all and has almost grown to the point of being painful, his neglected prick crying for attention. He winces as her face reddens at the sight of it.

After a moment he says, "…you should head out, the water's getting cold."

Fionna's eyes meet his once more. "What about… you know. _That._"

He clears his throat and runs a hand through his wet hair, the water giving it more weight in the back and pulling it almost entirely from his face. "I'll take care of that," he says uncomfortably.

He watches as she bites her lips, and then closes his eyes when she leans in to press a gentle kiss against his neck. Her hands fit themselves against his hips and her thumbs turn little circles, kneading the pale flesh. "…I can do it," she whispers, and he can barely hear her over the jet of water rushing over them.

He pulls away and shakes his head. "You don't have to," he assures her firmly, "I mean, this has been weird for you anyway. Don't worry about it."

Her fingertips trail down into the dip of his pelvis and rasp across the base of his cock, which twitches hopefully at the touch. He can't help the shiver that runs down his spine at the movement. His eyes, half closed in lust, meet her determined ones.

"I want to," she says calmly, and the words cause a heat to bloom once more in his crotch.

"…okay," he says, and it's like permission, so she wraps one little hand around the start of his shaft.

It's obvious that she doesn't really know what she's doing, but it's _Fionna_, and she's _touching_ him, and her inexperience is easy to forget.

He puts his hand around hers as she holds him and shows her how fast to go, how hard to squeeze, where it's more sensitive, and he gulps and pants against her. She catches on quickly and soon he can't do anything but grab on to her for leverage as she works him with her hands, feeling the heat of her blush on his shoulder. His hips jerk and tremor against her as she tightens her grip slightly and experiments with a flick of her wrist.

The motion causes lights to burst behind his eyelids and he imagines what it would be like if he were thrusting into more than just her hand, how _tight_ and _hot_ and _wet_ she'd be around him, and they could pleasure each other both at the same time and he could show her how _wonderful_ she could feel.

Marshall Lee pumps up into her fist one more time before something snaps inside of him and he releases, the tension built up in his shoulders and back loosening as he tries not to slump against Fionna. It's the most intense orgasm he's had in a very long time, and awareness is slow to return to him. When he does he follows her gaze to see that she's staring at his softening prick, one hand still loosely wrapped around his base, a bit of his essence clinging to her fingers.

He ducks his face into her shoulder and pants. "Sorry," he says, abashed, but leans back when she lifts her fingers to her lips and flicks her tongue out, tasting the sticky cum. The sight sends another muted hum of desire through him and his cock give a feeble twitch in response, but he throws his head back and laughs when her face screws up in disgust and she gags.

The sounds makes Fionna look up at him and smile hesitantly, questioningly, and he leans down to press his lips against hers, uncaring of the taste. "Let's get out of here," he says into her mouth, and he can feel her lips twitch up into a grin against his.

* * *

><p>Fionna lies on his chest, one leg thrown over his like she's claiming him, and one of his hands idly combs through her damp hair.<p>

Her bed is soft and warm around them and Marshall Lee isn't really sleepy because it's still relatively early morning, but he's so _tired_ that he can't force himself into activity. So instead he just watches her as she dozes quietly, his smile soft and pleased.

He kind of wants to know what to do now, where they stand in all of this, but at the same time he doubt that Fionna herself knows. So he'll just have to do his best to lead them both through this.

"Marsh…"

Her voice is quiet and groggy, and he jumps slightly in surprise because he didn't know that she was awake.

"Yeah, puff?"

Her head moves slightly so she can rest her chin on his pectoral, eyes blinking wearily at him. "I don't want you to get mad at me, but…" She bites her lip before saying quietly, "I don't think that I'm ready to have sex with you yet."

Marshall Lee blinks at her, then chuckles slightly. Her eyes narrow, offending, but then close with a purr when he rubs her scalp gently.

"That's fine," he says softly, and it really is. They've made a big step together, and he knows better than to try to push further than she wants to be pushed.

Fionna smiles at him tiredly, then flops her face back onto his chest. He lets out a huff of laughter, but stops when she murmurs, "I love you. Did you know that?"

He lays silently for a minute or two, and she turns her head so that she can look him in the eyes, a hopeful, vulnerable expression on her face. After a moment he pulls her up and presses a kiss, deep and hard, to her lips.

"Yeah," he says softly, "I did."

And it's not an admission but Marshall Lee has never really been one to talk about his feelings, he prefers to show them in a physical way, so Fionna smiles shyly and kisses him back before cuddling up closer and closing her eyes.

**(okay, guys, we're definitely closing in on the home stretch here. by which i mean that the chapter after next is the final one. after i got over my prudishness i actually had quite a bit of fun with this chapter, lol. i can't tell you how many times i had to use a thesaurus though. i don't think i've ever written the word lips so many times in a single chapter.**

**also, to preemptively avoid butthurt, i'd like to address the whole "not feeling any pain while getting fingered" thing. the hymen, which is what causes the more painful part of first-time sex, can actually break naturally with less pain when you're younger if you lead an active lifestyle. considering how active fionna is, that's the route i went with. beyond that there's only the initial discomfort of stretching, not unlike pulling a muscle. so yeah. the more you know~)**


	17. Wagon Wheel

Marshall Lee doesn't really do "afraid".

There aren't many things for him to fear in this world; he is ancient and powerful, respected and feared by demons and mortals alike, famous amongst the immortal community for his strength and terrible vengeance when wronged. He is the thing that goes bump in the night, the monster that mothers tell their children about to scare them into good behavior. Marshall Lee is not a creature familiar with fear unless he himself in invoking it in others.

Marshall Lee is afraid. He's afraid of time.

Time isn't something that he can frighten or bully into submission, isn't a living being to bargain with, knows no diplomacy or intimidation. Time is the horrid whisper through the trees as the seasons pass, the browning of the grass and leaves, the sword and steed both of Death.

Until recently, Marshall Lee never had to worry about time, because there are some things that time has a tendency to forget or disregard. There is an accord of sorts between immortals and Death; time will not touch them, but they aren't so invincible that steel or stake can't.

Fionna, however, is very much vulnerable to the passage of time, to aging and the pain of growing old. And this scares him, because now he knows what it's like to have a taste of heaven, of love and acceptance and completeness. He's afraid of knowing that even as she lives she's dying, drifting further and further away from him, until he'll be alone in the vast nothingness of everything.

But he's more afraid of leaving, of not being with her and of cutting himself off than of time.

He tries not to dwell on it, tries not to imagine what life will be like without her. Tries to think up arguments he can give in the future for turning her into a vampire like himself. Tries not to be afraid.

And at the same time… he's _excited_. He wants to see this person that she will grow into, wants to see the difference that time can make. Fionna is such a different person now than she was when they met, but yet she's still so similar, and he wants to know if it's possible to fall in love with her even more.

Marshall Lee knows that time will pass and she will grow old and he won't. He knows that Death will call her and she'll fade away while he watches. But he knew that already, has always known it even before he was in love with her, and his feelings for her won't change that.

And that's okay, he thinks. He'll just have to learn to take what he can get, and breathe her in while he can.

* * *

><p>Fionna's birthday is actually the day before Halloween. Because of this, the citizens of Ooo have a tendency to smash the two holidays together, often celebrating and giving her presents the day after her birthday instead of the actual date. Fionna has never specifically said it, but over the years Marshall Lee has come to the realization that she's doesn't really appreciate that.<p>

Not, he knows, because she's conceited enough to demand that all attention be on her. In fact most of the time Fionna herself has a tendency to ignore her own birthday, downplaying the occasion and often getting embarrassed when mentioned at the Halloween party the next day. But maybe sometimes she feels a little left out when all of her friends, with the obvious exception of Cake, forget about her in favor of a bigger holiday.

Marshall Lee caught on to this around the year she turned fourteen, and her last three birthdays he's made a point to come and bug her for a couple hours the day before Halloween so that she knows that there are people to remember her and care about her. Even if he usually ended up showing it by messing with her pipes or eating all of her food or waking her up by plugging his bass into a power amp and singing obnoxiously.

He doesn't exactly have anything big planned for her birthday this year. (He did originally, but well… well he just got kind of lazy towards the end.) That's okay though, she'd probably appreciate it more if he didn't make a big deal out of it. Fionna likes to party as much as the next teenage girl, but when put in the spotlight she gets embarrassed.

Marshall Lee is still somehow surprised when there aren't any well-wishers breaking Fionna's door down when he does show up mid-afternoon, if only because she's so popular among the gentry of the surrounding kingdoms. Surprised and a bit irritated on her behalf. But when he invites himself in by floating through a kitchen window and she turns to look at him in shock, a smile stretches her face and he can't stop his own matching one.

"Hey," Fionna says, pleasantly surprised as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Her hat is thrown haphazardly on the table alongside a sweater and one of her swords. He raises an eyebrow at the collection and she shrugs.

"Hey," he answers, fully climbing through the window. The floor is cold beneath his feet but she's warm against him when he pulls her close and grins at her. "Happy birthday, puffball."

Her nose wrinkles slightly. "Thanks," she hums, pulling away and returning to the massive pile of dishes she was watching. He watches her, a bit confused at her noncommittal reaction, before moving to help her. Fionna's eyes lift briefly to meet his, but he just shrugs and hefts up a pot.

"I'll wash and you rinse," he tells her, and she rolls her eyes but complies. This isn't really how he'd expected this to go, and obviously something is wrong, but Marshall Lee knows that if he pushes the issue she'll just get angry and not say anything. Fionna has an inability to stay quiet, though, so it only takes five minutes for her to let out an explosive sigh and turn off the faucet.

"You know," she starts, and then stops. He scrubs at a plate and lets her collect her thoughts. "Today isn't really even my birthday. Did you know that? I don't even know what my actual birthday is. This is just the day that mom and dad found me on that mountain."

Marshall Lee says nothing even though he'd had a feeling that's what this conversation would be about, just lets her continue at her own pace. She wipes her hands on a towel and then leans against the counter, glaring at the ground thoughtfully.

"And I mean, it's okay that we celebrate it today, because what other day are we going to do it? All we know is that I was born vaguely in May, since I couldn't have been more than four months old when they found me. But." She sighs and lifts a hand to swipe at her face, and Marshall Lee blinks in surprise when he realizes that she's crying. "Sometimes all I can think about is how much this is just a reminder that I was _left there._ Alone."

Fionna turns to look at him with watery eyes, and she doesn't look very inviting but he doesn't like seeing her in pain, so he flicks the soap off of his hands as best as he can and pulls her into a hug.

She doesn't cry against him like he expects, just breathes shakily and sniffs. Marshall Lee doesn't really know what to say. What is there to say? Sorry your parents abandoned you, you're still my number-one gal? All he can really do is offer comfort, and defuse the situation with his own personal brand of humor.

"If it makes you feel any better," he says, setting in chin on top of her hand and twitching slightly when her hair brushes his skin, "I don't really know when I was born either."

There's a moment of silence before she chuckles into his chest. "Really? But you're like… ancient."

Marshall Lee sniffs, pretending to be offended. "Hey! One thousand is the new twenty." She giggles and wraps her arms around his waist, her fingers dipping down into the back pockets of his jeans. "But seriously," he says, leaning back to look her in the eyes. She won't let him pull far enough away to remove her hands from their resting spot, so their stance is kind of awkward and he feels a little off-balance but she's smiling and that's all that matters. "After I while I just kind of stopped keeping track. I don't even remember my exact age."

"You're right," she says firmly, but her eyes are playful, "your problems are far more important than mine."

He snorts and pushes her lightly, and Fionna laughs as she catches herself on the table. He turns away to continue washing the dishes, and after a minute or two of her watching him she rejoins him at the sink. He glances at her and smiles self-consciously when he sees the soft, contemplative grin on her face. "What?" he asks, handing her a bowl to rinse.

Fionna shakes her head almost disbelievingly and asks, "Just wondering how it is that you're always able to just… make me feel better. About everything."

The honest, heartfelt comment makes him a bit uncomfortable with the raw emotion behind it, and after a couple seconds Marshall Lee deflects with a shrug, saying, "I'm just awesome like that."

If Fionna is disappointed with his response she doesn't say anything, just shakes her head again and smirks.

"Where's Cake?" he asks after they've plowed through another sink full of dishes. They're almost done, but Fionna's lost her steam and quits, flopping down at the table with a huff.

"She booked it once I started running the water," she grumbles, drying her hands on her pants. She's taken to wearing jeans now that the weather is a bit too cold for shorts and skirts, but the way the fabric clings to her generous curves makes up for the missing skin her summer clothes show. "Said she had to help Gumball and Lord Monochromicorn out with this party they're throwing tomorrow for Halloween."

"And your birthday," he reminds her, still a bit irritated at the fact that it feels like his girlfriend was just kind of thrown into the mix last minute. He knows that it's more convenient like this, but that doesn't keep him from being defensive of her. He pulls out a chair and sits opposite of her, his elbows on the table and chin in his hands.

Fionna shrugs off his remark. "Yeah, I guess."

Marshall Lee cocks his head and stares at her, as if trying to read her mind, and she looks around in confusion before asking, "What? Is there something on my face?"

"Does it really not bother you?" he questions, his eyebrows drawing down.

She blinks, bemused. "Does what not bother me?"

His voice is getting a bit angry now, but not at her, as he growls, "The fact that everybody is so willing to push you off. They treat you like an afterthought, even Gumball does sometimes. How does that not piss you off?"

After a couple seconds Fionna shrugs carefully. She picks her words cautiously and says, "…it just doesn't. Not really. I've never liked being put on a pedestal. I don't even particularly _like_ my birthday." She pauses before asking hesitantly, like she's not sure if he's going to bite her head off, "Why does it bother _you_?"

Marshall Lee huffs, like the answer is obvious. "Because I—" Love you. Don't like to see you get hurt. Hate it when other people get your hopes up and then disappoint you. "…because it just does, okay?" he says instead, the words sounding a bit lame after the long pause it took to say them, but nobody can deny that they're sincere. "I just don't think it's fair."

Her answering smile is quiet and a bit sad. "Life rarely is." She doesn't say it, but the look on her face tells him _you of all people should know that_.

* * *

><p>Fionna's actual birthday is relatively boring. After they finish the dishes, the two of them chill in the living room and Marshall Lee struggles to stay aware, not used to being awake so late in the day. It gets to the point where he nods off against her shoulder, and she finally pushes him away when he starts to drool into her shirt.<p>

"Nnng, wha-?" he mumbles in sleepy surprise as he pitches over against the couch, rubbing his eyes. Fionna grimaces as she inspects her sleeve, which has a wet spot on it.

"You slobbered on me. Like a dog," she informs him haughtily, and he gives a long, loud yawn, exposing fangs and molars.

"You're a dog," Marshall Lee says simply, getting up and stretching. Fionna chucks a throw pillow at him and it bounces off his head.

"Your face is a dog!"

"Are you guys doing "you're a towel" jokes?"

Both of them turn to see an amused Cake coming through the front door, her arms stretched out to accommodate all of the streamers and balloon she's holding. Fionna and Marshall Lee stare at her, look back to each other briefly, and then turn back to the cat.

"What is all that, Cake?" Fionna asks, getting up as well to relieve her of a bit of her burden. She shoves Marshall Lee as she passes him and he has to catch himself on the back of the couch.

"Nothing," Cake says innocently, her eyes wide and a poorly concealed smirk on her face. "Nothing at all."

Fionna rolls her eyes and follows her into the kitchen, barely regaining her balance after Marshall Lee sticks his foot out and trips her. She sends him a glare over his shoulder, but he just shrugs and looks up at the ceiling. "Yes, and I'm naïve enough to believe that," she tells Cake sarcastically, watching her boyfriend suspiciously as he floats after them, his arms crossed leisurely behind his head.

"Didn't you used to believe that you came from a cabbage?" he questions thoughtfully. When Cake gives him a handful of streamers to put in one of the upper cabinets he obliges, shoving back some of the junk already in the drawer to fit them in.

("Uh, hey, I think there's a dead rat in here."

"Leave that," Cake says immediately as she dumps the rest onto the table. "I'm saving it for later.")

Fionna sputters and blushes as she's reminded of her childhood ignorance. "Stuff it, bat boy! I was like… eleven back then or something."

"You were thirteen," Marshall Lee corrects, then twists so that he's looking up at the ceiling, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out. "Well actually now that I think about it, you did kind of come from a cabbage, in a manner of speaking I guess."

She thinks about it for a long moment, then chokes and blushes violently as she catches on, lifting one hand to her mouth to try to contain herself. It takes Cake a little bit longer, but when she gets it she snorts and giggles, "Ooh, that's nasty."

Fionna throws a balled-up streamer at his head, and he swats it away with a laugh, rolling so that he's looking down at her from the ceiling. She sticks her tongue out at him now that she has his full attention, but he just grins a toothy grin and does a little spin through the air.

"But seriously," she grumbles, digging through the mess on the table and unearthing her hat, which she pulls onto her head and ties under her chin. "What's all this crap for?"

Cake lets out a long, burdened sigh, her whiskers twitching as she whines, "I'm not supposed to tell youuuu." She shakes her head at Fionna when the human girl opens her mouth to reply. "You'll find out later anyway!"

Fionna's mouth shuts with a snap and she pouts, crossing her arms. "I swear, if you guys are throwing a surprise party for me, I'll _cut_ you. With my _face_."

The feline grows silent and starts to fiddle nervously with her paws, and Fionna's eyes narrow. Her gaze lifts to Marshall Lee and he can't help the jolt of panic that shoots through him at her look. "_What are you guys planning._"

He holds his hands up helplessly and backs up in the air until his spine is nearly parallel to the ceiling and he's as far out of her reach as he can get. "I can honestly say that I have absolutely no idea," he tells her quickly, gulping at the fire in her eyes.

Fionna's ire turns onto Cake, whose fur puffs up instinctively. "I swear, you little beast, if you're cooking up some scheme with Gumball…"

Cake yelps and jumps, but quickly tries to smooth down her fur and cover her tracks. "There's nothing going on except the Halloween party tomorrow night. A-and you should totally come, Fi, 'cause they—"

"I'm not going," Fionna says shortly, and even Marshall Lee stares at her in surprise. "I don't trust you."

Sputtering, Cake flails for a second before turning a pleading look to Marshall Lee. The vampire shrugs, saying, "Hey, don't look at me. I'm not getting involved with this."

"But Fionna!" Cake cries, pulling at her ears nervously. "The Candy Kingdom _always_ throws the best Halloween parties! Think of all the candy you'll be missing!"

Fionna stops and ponders this for a long moment, but Marshall Lee already knows that the cat has won this argument. There are not many things in this world that Fionna likes more than sweets, and parties are usually when she allows herself to indulge in a sugar binge.

(Marshall Lee knows that he will probably be dragging her sorry carcass back to her house, stopping frequently so that she doesn't barf cupcakes and candy all over his back.)

"….Fine," Fionna growls. "But I'm only going for the candy. And I'm not dressing up. And if I even see _one_ happy birthday banner, so help me…"

"Nothing's going to happen!" Cake assures her, but she glances at the door nervously and slides out of her seat. "But just in case, I should go check with Gumball to make sure, you know, we don't want him to be thinking up something as a surprise, and now I can go tell him that that would be a bad idea. N-not that we're planning anything! Okaygottagobye."

Marshall Lee and Fionna watch as Cake absconds so quickly she's just a brown-colored blur.

"They're totally planning something," Fionna states, crossing her arms.

"Yep," he answers, floating down to her level and touching down onto the floor.

They stand in silence for a few seconds before Fionna turns and whacks his arm. He jerks in surprise. "Hey! What was that for?"

She glares at him so hard that he kind of shrinks away from her, eyes widening at the expression on her face. She takes a step towards him and he immediately reflects that, backing up a pace. "I _swear_, Marshall Lee, if you have something to do with this, I'll… I'll… I'll throw onions at you."

He blinks in confusion. "Onions? What… why onions?"

Fionna shuffles, losing her steam. "Don't vampires, like, hate onions?"

Marshall Lee snorts and shakes his head. "That's garlic, dumbfuck."

"You're a dumbfuck!"

"Your face is a dumbfuck."

Fionna shoves him into a wall.

* * *

><p>Despite his best intentions, Marshall Lee ends up falling asleep about an hour later. He's about to make a little nest on her couch when Fionna forces him up and pushes him, grumbling, up the stairs and into her bed.<p>

("Isn't it a bit early for the dirty stuff?" he chuckles tiredly.

Fionna wallops him across the head.)

The next few hours pass quickly as he dozes, but when he wakes to the long shadows of evening the rest of the house is still and silent. Fionna is knocked out across the foot of the large bed, her mouth open and slight snores coming from her. Marshall Lee wants to say they're cute, but mostly it's just funny, and he wakes up by amusing himself with pinching her nose shut and watching her face screw up irritably until he releases it again.

The rest of the night is a blur as he plays his guitar and watches movies and tries to get some more sleep, determined to go to the party with Fionna on time instead of his usual three hours late. It's getting to the point where being awake without her is really, really boring, because flying around Ooo isn't as fun when she's not clinging to him and fighting monsters isn't as exciting when her whooping and yelling doesn't play as background noise.

He manages to get to sleep at four in the morning, which is pretty early for him, and doesn't wake up until seven the next evening, when Fionna pushes him out of the bed. Literally.

"You're so violent now," Marshall Lee whines into the floorboards, but grins when Fionna sits down on the small of his back. She stretches her body so she's laying on top of him and tucks her arms up under his, cuddling up against him like a koala.

"You love it," she murmurs into his shoulder blades, kissing the back of his neck before hefting herself up. "Come on, we gotta get ready to go."

Marshall Lee rolls to his feet and pads over to her closet, digging through it to pull out a flannel shirt and a pair of skinny jeans. He doesn't bother going into the bathroom to change, just strips and pulls on the clean clothes, but he stops with his shirt halfway on when he hears Fionna squeak. His answering grin is positively evil, and he takes the shirt back off, grabbing the ends of the two sleeves and tossing it around her like a rope to pull her in against him.

"We have stuff to do," she mumbles into his chest, mouthing the words along the curve of a pectoral as he smirks into her hair.

"We have time," he assures her, bending down to press his lips against hers. They work against each other for a minute, each trying to establish dominance over the other, before he wins the little play-battle and runs his tongue across her lips. She opens up for him briefly, but pulls away when one of his hands snakes beneath her shirt.

"No," Fionna says firmly, if a bit breathily. "It's Halloween and I want candy. We can continue this later."

Marshall Lee lets her go with a pout and finishes getting dressed, and she turns away to pull on her stockings and shoes. "I'm holding you to that," he tells her seriously, sharp teeth bared in a feral grin when she glances over her shoulder to raise an eyebrow at him.

He stretches out on the bed, arms behind his head like a pillow as he watches her brush her hair and put on her hat. "You were serious about not dressing up, huh?" he hums, foot tapping lightly against the sheets.

"I'm going as a disaffected teenager," Fionna chirps brightly, clapping her hands as she finishes getting ready. "And you're… going as a gay lumberjack, apparently."

Marshall Lee sniffs and waves a hand flippantly. "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful."

"I wouldn't dream of it," she smirks, grabbing one of his feet and pulling. He slides off the bed but catches himself at the last minute. "We should go soon. Do you have your parasol?"

"It's an umbrella, assbutt. And it's downstairs. Where's Cake?"

Fionna bounces down the stairs cheerfully and he follows, floating casually behind her until he's grabbed his umbrella and is waiting for her at the door.

"She left a couple hours ago, said she had to go make the finishing touches on this party thing." After a couple seconds she sighs and her shoulders droop. "I really, really hope they're not doing a _surprise_ party thing."

Marshall Lee scratches his chin and floats over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. "Why not? I like the idea. You finally get some recognition for all the shit you do around here."

Fionna leans against him, a warm weight pressed into his side, and he turns to kiss the top of her head, catching a whiff of vanilla as he does so.

"I don't like my birthday," she tells him quietly, her voice small and a bit sad, "because all it ever does is remind me that I'm the _last_. I'm the only human here. And it's because my parents abandoned me." She fiddles with her hands for a moment but stops and sighs again. "It's just weird to think that people want to celebrate that."

Marshall Lee squeezes her against him, smiling when the motion draws a laugh out of her. "That's not it, I don't think," he says gently, and she turns to look up at him curiously. "They want to celebrate _you_, and all the stupid, brave stuff that you do for them. Hell, I want to celebrate you." He shakes her lightly and grins, and a hesitant smile brightens her face. "So just… chill out. And enjoy it when it happens."

Her smile widens and she presses her face into his chest. "You're so awesome, Marshall Lee," she murmurs, and he lifts a hand to pat her head, the fabric of the old, nearly-fraying hat soft and thin beneath his fingers.

"Yeah," he tells her. "I know."

* * *

><p>The trip to the Candy Kingdom is short and uneventful, save for the frequent cheers of other travelers on the ground below, all heading to the same location. Bartleby Gumball has a tendency to be rather straight-laced most of the time, but when he throws a party he goes all out.<p>

Instead of going through the front door like everyone else, Fionna pokes his shoulder and directs them towards a balcony. He lands on the smooth stone easily and sets her down, running a hand through his hair to straighten it while she takes a moment to regain her balance. The noise drifting up from inside the main room of the castle isn't as loud as they were expecting, like someone is trying to keep it down to a dull roar, and Fionna sighs.

"You ready for this?" Marshall Lee smirks, throwing an arm around her shoulder companionably.

"Yeah. I guess." She glances up at him and says, "I'll understand if you want to wait out here for whatever they have planned to die down."

He snorts and shakes his head. "And let you go in there alone? Not a chance." He looks down at her and grins, all teeth and spitfire. "You're stuck with me, babe."

She answers this with a tight hug and a lingering kiss, then pulls away. She takes a deep breath and marches through the doorway and into the castle. Marshall Lee follows at an easy strut, his hands in his pockets.

The atmosphere inside the entrance room where the actual party is being held seems to be one of general confusion, mixed with excitement. The two of them look over the railing to the floor below to see that while almost everyone present has dressed up and is holding some form of refreshment, none of them really know what to do.

At the front door Gumball paces with a frown, frequently turning to glare at the large, closed doors. He's dressed rather plainly considering that usually he goes all-out for Halloween, with only slightly different, less fancy clothes and a cape wrapped around his neck. Cake and Lord Monochromicorn stand a small distance away from him, Cake saying something that the two upstairs can't hear and Mochro stomping a hoof against the floor in reply. The Prince's agitation is almost tangible, and from his angle behind her Marshall Lee can see Fionna's lips twitch up in a fond, exasperated smile.

After a minute or so of observation, Fionna turns and makes her way down the stairs and blends into the crowd, Marshall Lee floating a couple paces behind her. Around them party-goers wave and chirp greetings, but nobody seems to realize that she's actually supposed to be the guest of honor and the one that they're all waiting for.

(Fionna will later quietly say that this is because Gumball didn't have time to personally greet everyone and tell them it was a surprise. Marshall Lee's loud rebuttal will be that candy people are just incredibly _stupid_.)

The two of them make their way through the party, with Fionna stopping frequently to mingle and Marshall Lee zipping around and untying corset laces or swapping peoples' props and generally just being a nuisance. It takes them almost ten minutes to get to Gumball, and Monochromicorn is the first to spot them, quickly tapping out a message that has Cake and the Candy Prince whipping around to stare at them in shock.

Fionna grins, wide and innocent, and Marshall Lee lifts a hand to wiggle his fingers at them.

Gumball takes a deep breath and scrunches up his face, like he's trying _really, really hard_ not to start screaming, but to be honest it kind of just looks like he's constipated. Cake looks between him and the couple nervously, her tail fluffing out.

Fionna, unable to stand the pressure, finally throws up her arms and then launches herself at Bartleby, clinging to him like a little blonde koala. "Hi, Gumgum!" His face, which had been rapidly turning red, slackens in surprise, and then he deflates, all the irritation fizzing out of him in the face of the pint-sized adventuress.

It takes a second, but finally he wraps on arm around her as well and sighs. "Hello, Fionna." He glances over her shoulder at the vampire, who's watching in amusement. "Marshall Lee," he acknowledges, and Marshall Lee catches his free hand in an awkwardly-positioned high five. After a few moments he pulls away and holds Fionna at arms' length, looking down at her in distaste. "I see that you weren't feeling very festive tonight."

"I just came for the candy," she agrees, bobbing her said with a grin.

"Hmm." Gumball looks back up at Marshall Lee and raises an eyebrow. "And what are you supposed to be?"

Marshall Lee opens his mouth to respond, but Fionna cuts in quickly. "He's a gay lumberjack."

Gumball's other eyebrow joins the other one, both of them disappearing below his hairline. Marshall Lee shrugs ambivalently.

"…alright," the Prince says, either not caring enough or not willing enough to question it. Marshall Lee and Fionna share a small grin. "Well," Gumball says with a sigh, "You've spectacularly ruined any chance of this being a surprise party. So. Surprise!"

At the exclamation, Cake throws a pitiful pawfull of confetti up in the air and Mochro clomps, supposedly his own version of cheering. The small celebration causes a few heads to turn their way, and whispers spread through the mass of people as they all realize that they're not much of a point of keeping quiet anymore now that the honored guest is here.

Within a few minutes, the music has cranked up and the lights are dimmed and everyone is dancing like idiots. Fionna squeals and disappears into the crowd, presumably towards the snack table to finally get her candy. Cake jumps into the fray as well, and Mochro follows after her, his long body snaking throw the throng of people and making a hole through the riot.

Marshall Lee and Gumball hang out on the fringes as the party tilts into full swing, and Marshall Lee wishes he'd thought to bring his guitar because this music kind of sucks. Gumball turns to smile at him, and the vampire remembers that he hasn't really hung out with his best guy pal since the door-kicking fiasco.

"How are things going?" the Prince halfway-shouts, trying to be heard over the music that pulses through the room.

Marshall Lee shrugs. "Okay I guess," he replies, wincing slightly. The music screams through his sensitive ears and the flashing lights prick at his retinas, and he knows that he can't stay in here much longer without going into sensory overload. He looks over Gumball's getup. "What are you supposed to be?"

Bartleby blushes, his face turning a bit more pink than usual, though it's difficult to tell because of the lighting. "I'm a knight!" he exclaims, even reaching over to draw a rubber sword from a sheath at his waist. He brandishes it at Marshall Lee, his feet set in a surprisingly good stance for a guy who bakes three times as much as he fences. Still, it would be laughably easy to upset his form, and Marshall Lee considers it for a brief second before disregarding the notion. This is a party. He can be a prankster but he can't be a douche.

He manages to get through another few minutes of small talk before the heat and scent of so many people clustered together becomes overwhelming, his predator instincts kicking into overdrive, before he has to retreat, welcoming the chill of the night air and the moon hanging high in the sky. The balcony he's leaning on is gloriously empty. It's easier to be in small groups of people, or if he has to be in a crowd to have his guitar to focus on. But without something to hold his attention the feeling of blood pumping through hundreds of bodies seems to pound in his ears almost as much as the music.

The party is a dull roar in the background, and Marshall Lee feels a little guilty for having lost Fionna, but this is her party anyway and he can't horde her all to himself. The stars twinkle in the distance, and he rests his elbows on the railing, letting himself cool down and relax. Marshall Lee likes parties. He just doesn't particularly like people.

The calm almost-silence is broken when Fionna stumbles out onto the balcony with him, tripping under the weight of the backpack slung across her shoulders. She catches his gaze and grins before letting the bag drop, handfuls of brightly-wrapped candy spilling across the cobbled stone. "Most of it's red," she says as a greeting, "so we can share."

He helps himself to a couple pieces and smiles at her as she drapes herself across the railing, standing on her tiptoes to see over the side. "You having fun?" he asks, flicking the now-grey, tasteless candy bar off the side and ducking away when someone below shrieks in surprise. Fionna's eyes widen and she squeaks as whoever it is starts shouting, obviously blaming her for it.

"Dude, you just pelted Lumpy Space Prince in the head. Now he's going to complain all night." Marshall Lee smirks, and she bops him in the arm. "But yeah. It's more fun than I was expecting. I like hanging out with my friends, or, you know, random people." Her face splits in a grin. "But mostly I like the candy."

It takes a few long seconds, but Marshall Lee finally realizes that she's staring at him intently. "What?" he asks, slightly concerned and tempted to wipe at his face.

"Are you okay? I mean, here? Right now?" He blinks at her in confusion. "It's just, you left kind of quickly." Fionna shuffles and bites her lip hesitantly, and his eyes narrow in on the action.

"Yeah," he says, distractedly. "Just a bunch of people in a small space. No big deal."

Fionna shrugs helplessly and continues like she hadn't heard him. "Because I mean, I feel kind of bad for just leaving you. But I figured you didn't need me to drag you around and force you to interact with people if you didn't want to, and I just—"

She stops as his lips press against hers, his back hunched to bend down to her level. It's not a particularly deep or emotional kiss, just a reassuring touch to get her to stop talking. Even though they've certainly shared better ones, her eyes are still closed contently when he pulls back.

"It's cool, puffball," he murmurs gently, and feels her breath huff out against his face. It mists slightly in the cold and he remembers distantly how when he was a child he used to roar out breaths in the winter and pretend he was a dragon. He wonders if Fionna ever did that, too.

She wraps her arms around his waist and rests her head against his chest, mumbling, "Sometimes I don't know how you put up with me."

Marshall Lee chuckles into her hair. "It's easier than you might expect."

She shivers against him, just a brief tremor, and tightens her grip, and she's so warm in his arms and so bright against him, all loud and cheery and smiles, and he opens his mouth before he can think to regret it and says, "I love you."

Fionna tenses in his hold and pulls back just enough to look him in the face. Her eyes are wide and searching and he swallows nervously, but can't really bring himself to take it back because it's the truth.

"…yeah?" she asks, like she can't bring herself to say _do you really is this actually happening oh my god please don't be lying_ and her skin is soft and pale in the moonlight and he bends down and touches her lips with his once, twice, three times before whispering against her skin.

"Yeah."

She stares, but a slow smile stretches across her face, white teeth and dimples and sunshine even at night and Marshall Lee grins down at her, and maybe it's just his imagination but his beatless heart seems to jump a bit in reply. He wants to spill out everything, he wants to sing to her and play his guitar for her and hold her close never stop saying it over and over and over _I love you I love you I love you_ but sometimes things should just be kept simple so he doesn't.

"It's cold," he tells her instead, threading his fingers between hers and reveling in the warmth of them. "Let's go back inside."

And he won't say everything on his mind now but maybe someday he will, and as he leads the two of them back into the castle he thinks that even if he doesn't it won't change the fact that he feels it anyway. Her fingers are warm in his and her side is warm against his and her smile is so warm that it hurts, and Marshall Lee thinks that he's probably going to love this silly little human girl forever.

_**(what do you mean swear words aren't terms of endearment  
>what do you mean slapping and shoving in a relationship isn't healthy<br>everything i've ever known about romance is a**** lie**_

__**but seriously, this was a disgustingly long wait for a rather mediocre chapter, especially since you had to wait so long to get it and the next one is the last and i am just a terrible person, aren't i? i'm the worst. it is me.)**


	18. Soco Amaretto Lime

If you want, you can imagine that Marshall Lee turns Fionna into a vampire. That she becomes his Queen and they rule together, strong and powerful, and he teaches her how to fly and eat colors and turn invisible. You can imagine that they spend an eternity together, happy and in love.

Or maybe he becomes a human somehow, and they're happy together like that. And they take naps in the sun and eat real pancakes all day. And then they'll get married, and maybe have a couple kids. And they become old together, and finally they die, happy and in love.

None of these things are what actually happens.

But you can imagine that they do, if you want.

* * *

><p>Hers is a humble grave.<p>

It's always been humble, really, but it's even more so now than it was the last time Marshall Lee had visited it. Once he had been able to run his fingers over the stone and feel her name carved into it, a marker that claimed this as her final resting spot. Now the stone is washed almost completely smooth by decades of rain and snow.

But he knows exactly where the words used to be, and if he presses hard enough then maybe he can feel a little dent in the rock, maybe in the shape of an F or an I, but Marshall Lee does not like to dwell on such things.

He'd spent a lifetime, several lifetimes really, dwelling on this, and he's at that stage of calm, nostalgic acceptance. It's a humble grave.

Marshall Lee feels old when he stares at it, even though his body is still as young and fit as a teenager, and something weighs heavily on him. But he doesn't mope and he doesn't brood, he just stares at it and _thinks_ and _remembers_, and there is a difference between those things.

He swallows and closes his eyes. He's never really understood the need to speak to people who weren't there, but for some reason whenever he comes here he just feels compelled to _talk_ because everything feels so quiet without her and he's terrified that he's going to get used to that silence again, that it's just going to eat away at every memory he has of her.

"Hey," he tries, but his voice dies in his throat. He has to clear it before he can speak again. "Sorry it's been so long. I had… things to do."

The grave is quiet as death (ha ha, pun…) and Marshall Lee shoves his hands into his pockets and rocks on the balls of his heels. He should feel awkward, talking into the air, because intellectually he knows that she's dead and has been for a while and won't ever, can't ever hear anything that he's saying. But he doesn't. He just feels a kind of muted hurt, like the phantom pain of a limb being chopped off.

"If it makes you feel any better, I haven't been to see Gumball in even longer." He chuckles sadly and reaches up to swipe a hand through his shaggy hair. "But I guess that wouldn't really make you feel better, would it."

A twinge of guilt tickles at his heart and he sighs. He's never been very good at holding a conversation with someone who can't talk back. He'd gotten used to letting her fill in the gaps with her voice, and even a couple centuries later he still sometimes expects her to sneak up behind him and wrap her arms around him and whisper about her day into his ear.

He'd been hoping in the angry, selfish part of him that she would die and become a ghost, so that even if her body was gone the thing that made her _her_ would still be around. But even back in that first dark year he'd known that she was well and truly gone, with no unfinished business to take care of. Fionna had died a woman without a purpose, because her purpose had already been fulfilled.

Marshall Lee stares at the ground and wonders if he can just bury himself into it beside her and fall asleep forever, where he can dream that they're together again.

"I miss you," he says simply, and it's one of the most truthful things that he's said in the last few centuries. "And it's not really that it becomes easier with time, it's more that I become used to it. And I hate that. I _miss_ you."

But he has responsibilities and the horrible truth is that life goes on even when you lose everything you've ever cared about, and he can't just go to sleep forever in the same way that he can't just let another vampire kill him. That's just not how the world works for Marshall Lee, and he used to hate that. He used to rage and throw tantrums and scream because he hated it so much. But now it's more of a dull ache that he can ignore if he really sets his mind to it.

It's sad to think that, in the end, Fionna's death didn't have that big of an impact on the world. It kept turning and the grass kept growing and the rain kept falling and Marshall Lee kept existing, and not even losing her could stop that.

"My lord?"

Marshall Lee turns to glance over his shoulder. Amalie stands at a respectful distance, posed to either draw closer or leave at any time. He thinks about it for a second, then nods at her and she closes the space between them to stand at his side, barely coming up to his midriff. The two of them stare at the stone for a long time.

Amalie opens her mouth and then closes it, shuffling quietly. His eyes flicker towards her and then back to the grave.

"I'm sorry," she tells him simply after a minute of silence. Marshall Lee just shrugs.

"It's nobody's fault. Just nature." He heaves a sigh and tilts his head up to look at the night sky. He wonders how long it's been since he's had the energy or the will to fly up amongst the clouds. "Nature and time."

He'd spent a long time being angry. A long time running away from his responsibilities, a long time trying to find somewhere that didn't remind him of her. And then he'd realized that he'd never find that somewhere, and he'd come back.

"Was it worth it?" Amalie asks, craning her neck to look up at him. There are a million ways to take that question. Was it worth the pain? Was it worth the time and the energy? Was it worth the long, dark years afterwards where he just wanted to escape from the world?

The answer is as clear as day, and he doesn't even really have to think about it.

"Yeah, it was."

They stare at the grave for a while, quiet as specters, and Marshall Lee muses on the way he can't quite remember the way Fionna's mouth crooked when she smiled or how soft her hands were or the exact shade of blue in her eyes. And that scares him a little.

But at the same time it's okay, he's accepting it, because even if he can't remember exacts he will never forget the way she made him _feel_, or the warmth she'd press into him, or how she loved him _so much_, right up until her last breath. And those things are more important than smiles or hands or eyes.

So yeah, he thinks. It was worth every damn second.

"Funny to think about it, really," Amalie says softly, clasping her hands behind her back as he slides his back into his pockets. "That love is not much more than the fortunate collision of two foolish souls."

Marshall Lee raises an eyebrow and glances at her. "You ever been in love, kiddo?"

The younger vampire tenses and says coolly, "You should know the answer to that question by now, sir."

He lets out a puff of laughter and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I suppose I should." He closes his eyes and a bittersweet smile twitches his mouth upwards. "Funny to think about it, indeed."

They spend another minute at the grave, and Marshall Lee thinks that maybe it's alright to mourn. It's alright to be lonely, and it's alright to be sad. But what's more important is that _she_ was important enough to make him feel this way. That he loved, loves, her enough to miss her so terribly the way that he does. And that's alright.

"Are you okay, sir?" Amalie asks, tilting her head up to stare at him.

"No," he says, and the smile he sends her is sad but genuine. "But I will be."

And, maybe, he really does think that he will.

The two of them turn and leave behind the grave and its smooth stone marker, perfect predators disappearing into the night.

**_(you're gonna carry that weight)_**


	19. Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

Things unravel quickly, as they are wont to do in crisis situations. For all that Marshall Lee has prepared for such possibilities, for all his instinct and fury, there are still instances where everything can fall apart.

He dodges, side-steps, parries, ripostes, flash-stepping and darting around so fast that to a mortal eye he could very well be blinking in and out of existence, but his adversary isn't fooled, and he's hard pressed to find an advantage. Not even the power of flight can help Marshall Lee now, not against this foe, and _where did he even come from_.

Marshall Lee ducks a measured swing, the wooden stake barely brushing over the tips of his hair, but his reaction is too slow, his footing too loose, his stance too wide. His rival uses his misstep to tackle him bodily, a freight train slamming into his torso and shoving him to the ground.

Wide red eyes stare up at the triumphant expression above him as the younger vampire digs claws into his wrist, leans down on his knees and uses his own weight against him. Adrenaline narrows his focus to the point where he can actually see the sweat bead form on his enemy's forehead, and the few seconds it takes for the perspiration to slide down the tip of his nose and land on Marshall Lee's cheek is almost an hour in his mind.

"I guess this is the end for you, _my king_," the younger man hisses, and a spike of fear shoots down Marshall Lee's spine. Him, the Vampire King, killed by the trickery and deception of a fledging who hadn't even waited for his own body to grow cold before becoming overly ambitious.

Marshall Lee manages to gasp out, "Wait—"

And then the wooden stake sinks into his chest, straight through his cold, dead heart. And in a single brief instant, Marshall Lee, the two-thousand year old eldritch Vampire King, quite simply ceases to be.

* * *

><p><em>Hey.<em>

_Hey, kid._

_I told you that everything had an end. And here you are._

_At your end._

_Past your end, if you wanted to get technical about it. I mean, you've been dead for how long exactly? A damn long time. It's actually pretty impressive that you managed to stay topside that long._

_But here you are, just like I knew you'd be, no earlier or later than when you were supposed to arrive._

_Now, listen. Normally I'm not supposed to do stuff like this. I have my own code of ethics, ya'know?_

_But you've done me a few favors these last couple centuries and you're not a bad dude. You play a mean guitar._

_Anyway. There's somebody here waiting for you._

_Been here quite a while, actually. Probably doesn't even remember what she's waiting for. Souls tend to forget stuff like that after a while. They're a bit too bland for actual remembrance. They're kind of stupid, actually. Like little babies. But the way I figure, everybody deserves another chance, you know? Souls ain't cheap to make, and sometimes I gotta reuse 'em. If I didn't recycle some every now and then, well, we'd just be an empty universe and I'd be stiffed out of a job. _

_Heh heh. Stiffed. Get it? It's a pun._

_Aww, whatever._

_Look, you gotta take this opportunity while it's presenting itself now. Normally people have to wait a couple centuries before I let them get reborn. I had to pull some strings to get you into the express lane._

_So don't mess up this chance, okay? You probably won't get another one, just so you know._

_Alright kid. Time to go._

_See you on the other side._

Marshall Lee wakes up.

* * *

><p>Marshall Lee King works in a little café that's adjoined to a Borders on campus. It's not a very miraculous job, and it doesn't really pay enough money to cover his student loans, but honestly that's what he gets for majoring in musical theory and this coupled with a weekend of good busking is usually enough to pay his half of the rent and put a little extra aside. His boss isn't a total dick, he doesn't waste any gas getting there, and most of the customers are hipsters that are more interested in their tea than in hassling him, so it's not a terrible job, either.<p>

It's a little mediocre, but he didn't exactly go in expecting to be singing show tunes everyday anyway so it works for him.

It's one-thirty in the afternoon, and the store has just entered that no-man's-land state where everyone has gone back to work after their lunch break and the only customers are either the post-grad kids who just got out of high school but can't afford college, or the college kids who just got out of class and are looking to relax somewhere on campus before the next class starts. The university is surprisingly lenient about non-students being on campus, but that's probably because the host town is tiny and the on-campus shops make up most of the entertainment around here. It's kind of a depressing thought.

Anyway, the café is dead, which is totally cool because Marshall Lee needs to be studying anyway. Which is what he starts doing, after he makes the midday inventory count and quickly wipes down the little two-person tables scattered around the tiny eating space.

He opens his _Norton's_ book and manages to get a paragraph into "How To Evaluate Essays" (apparently he'd been doing it wrong since middle school, who knew?) before a shadow falls over the passage.

Marshall Lee quickly shuts the book and shoves it back under the counter, a guilty expression crossing his face just in case it's his boss. But it's not Aurora Queene, who admittedly isn't terrible, but is kind of a hard ass. It's a little petite girl with big blue eyes and a bit of a crooked smile. Marshall Lee blinks at her, because he swears that he's never seen this girl but there's something about her that's frighteningly familiar.

It takes him a moment, but he manages to catch himself before the silence can get awkward and exchanges the habitual pleasantries.

"What can I get you?" he asks, sliding off of his stool and rolling up his sleeves.

"Just a hot chocolate," she says, and her smile is slightly apologetic. She looks young, maybe fresh out of high school or possibly a freshman at the uni, and has the air and inflection of one of those girls that sound like they're apologizing for _everything_. There are a surprising number of people like that, and when Marshall Lee first started working in a consumer business it threw him off but now he just ignores it.

The order is simple enough and he's pressing a foam cup with a little smiley face on it into her hand within a minute. She tries to pay with a debit card but the machine beeps agitatedly at her when she slides it through the pad.

She squeaks in surprise and stutters out a "S-sorry!"

"It's cool," Marshall Lee says soothingly. "Sometimes the POS doesn't like taking cards. It's kind of old." He punches a few buttons on the keyboard and a message flashes at him. He nods at her again after a couple seconds, and this time the system reads the card but takes a long time to pull the information up. He takes the moment to surreptitiously look her over.

She's short, probably up to his elbows, with long blonde hair that curls out from under the knitted cap she's worn to protect herself from the cold winter outside. There's a light dusting of freckles across her nose that scrunches as she looks down at the touch pad and presses in her PIN. The thick blue sweater she's wearing has short white hairs all over it, like cat fur. _Definitely a high schooler._

All in all, she's not beautiful, but certainly not ugly. She's a bit plain, but attractively so. And so incredibly familiar, like someone he used to know but fell out of touch with. If she'd been a couple years older it might have been a possibility, but she's too young to be anyone that he knows well enough to recognize.

Her eyes lift up to meet his again, and Marshall Lee is once again overcome with this intense feeling of nostalgia. It takes a moment before the computer beeps to tell him that the transaction is done and the receipt is printing, and he jumps back into being a professional. He might not have an important job, but as long as he's getting paid for it he'll take it seriously. At the top of the receipt is the brief list for customer info, with her name and last four digits of her debit card printed out, but even as he takes a marker and circles a free coupon on the paper ("Get a few cookie with your next purchase of a 5 dollar or more drink!") he can see in his periphery that she's watching him with a strange intensity.

Marshall Lee hands her the receipt and is about to wish her a nice day before she interrupts, saying, "Have we met somewhere before?" She apologizes quickly when she realizes he was about to say something. "Oh, sorry."

He shakes his head and crosses his arms. "You know, I didn't think so, but you look kind of familiar."

"Yeah," she mutters thoughtfully, "you do too."

After a couple seconds the silence between them becomes awkward, and he takes it upon himself to diffuse the situation. "Marshall Lee," he says, lips quirking upwards as he holds out a hand.

She stares at it like he's extending a snake at her, then a blush blooms across her face and she grips his hand gently and shakes it. "Fionna," she grins hesitantly, "Fionna Hunt."

"Fionna?" He scratches his chin. "Huh. No, I don't think we've ever met."

Fionna's face falls slightly and she bites her lip. "But I could have sworn… I mean, you look just like this guy I used to know! I think. Maybe…"

He blinks at her in amusement as her face slowly grows red, and then chuckles under his breath as she looks away. He's about to laugh good naturedly and finish his farewell speech ("Have a nice day, and remember to fill out one of our survey card to enter to win a five-hundred dollar gift card to Borders!") when she swallows and then blurts out, "But, well, we could, maybe, get to know each other now? And then we could say that we've met. I guess."

Marshall Lee stares at her and then laughs, but cuts himself off with a few giggles when she flushes so hard he's afraid she's going to pass out. She hides her face and turns away, mumbling, but he stops her with a grinning, "No, shit, wait, sorry. Totally didn't mean to sound like that."

He looks her up and down, takes in the blonde hair and freckles and dark blush and little upturned nose and the way she nervously bites her lip, like she's never asked out a guy before and _fuck_ she probably hasn't, and Jesus Christ her _eyes_, how is it even fucking possible to have eyes that blue.

"How old are you?" he asks, just as a precaution, because fuck if he's getting in trouble with the law again. It must come out a bit condescending though because she puffs up a bit, her eyebrows lowering defensively.

"I'm nineteen," she says in a way that's trying to be cool but is mostly just nervous. It's older than he was expecting, and only three years difference between the two, and he's dated younger than her before.

So he just shrugs and says, "Yeah, sure. That sounds cool."

She blinks those stupidly blue eyes at him and then squeaks. "Oh. Oh! _Oh_. Um. Cool."

Marshall Lee reaches over to the receipt printer and presses the button, letting a bit of blank paper feed out of it and tears it off when he's satisfied with the length. Fionna watches this, bouncing from foot to foot, and then says quickly, "So, um, just to clarify, I just asked you out and you said okay, right?"

He smirks and scrawls out his phone number quickly, glancing around to make sure his manager isn't going to swoop down and tell him off for flirting with customers again. "Right," he assures her, and tucks the paper into her hand with the actual receipt.

She stares at it for a moment, then takes a deep breath and asks, "When do you get off?"

Marshall Lee's eyebrows shoot up at the bold question, but he glances towards the clock. His shift ends at six, so… "About four hours," he says.

Fionna swallows and nods, apparently rolling with her new confidence. "Awesome. How do you feel about pancakes?"

A smile splits his lips and it puts her a little more at ease, coaxes a more genuine grin from her to match his. "I fucking love pancakes," he says earnestly.

She slips the receipt and his number into her jeans pocket and picks up her hot chocolate, which has cooled just enough in the span of their conversation for her to take a dainty sip. "Cool. Then I'll see you at the IHOP in town at seven." She blinks a couple times, then mutters quietly, "I mean, if that's okay, unless you have homework to do…"

"I'm free," Marshall Lee assures her, smirking at the return of her flustered blush. "IHOP. Seven. Got it."

He lifts a hand in farewell and sits himself back down on his stool as she leaves the café, throwing a nervous smile over her shoulder and scrunching those big blue eyes up at him. He stifles a laugh and pretends not to notice when she trips over the sidewalk curb outside, and finds himself inexplicably looking forward to the evening.

Maybe, he thinks, this silly little girl can grow on him.

**(i wrote this before i'd even finished chapter 16, and i told myself that if i ever got to 400 reviews i'd post it, no matter how much time had passed. i know that a lot of you preferred the bittersweet ending provided by chapter 18; please don't be too upset with me for wanting to make it a bit happier!**

**and finally, since i promise that this is very much the end and i won't be writing anything else in the ETS universe, i would like to thank everyone who read this story. this stupid, silly story that i never expected to get to this point. thank you. thank you so, so much. it's not looking like it right now, but maybe someday the adventure time bug will bite me again and i'll revisit marshall lee and fionna. until then, happy reading, and _thank you._)**


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